I Dreamed of Angels
by Shine Q
Summary: 3x4: Trowa learns about the phenomenon called angels and journeys on through different lifetimes in order to search for his evergrowing obsession.
1. One A

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One A

Further down, in the dark recesses of the street, was a building standing tall and proud amidst the chaotic air that surrounded it. From afar, it seemed that it was glowing orange and yellow as if on fire. Upon close observation, though, one would conclude that the orange and yellow glow was coming from carved pumpkins lining the different windows. Through the thick glass of the windows, cobwebs and skeletons could be seen surrounding children of different ages and sizes. They were dressed in imaginative clothing of various colors. Several adults could also be seen running around, making final adjustments to each child's clothing. On the far corner of the room though, a child not more than five was sitting, watching the commotion going on around him with uninterested, beautiful green eyes.

"Hey Trowa, What are you doing hiding all the way over there?" asked one of the adults gently with concern written on her face.

"Nothing." the child answered.

"Well, you don't seem excited at all. It's Halloween night and everybody else is getting ready for 'trick or treat'."

"That's okay. I don't want to go anyway."

"Why not?"

"I just don't." The last statement was said with such a sorrowful pout that almost made the lady before him cry.

"Now Trowa, you know we're trying to find you a family." The child did not respond so she decided to continue.

"It's not just that, is it?" This time, she received a nod.

"So, I'm assuming that nobody will take you in their group for the rounds we are having tonight?" The child remained silent but gave another nod. 

Looking closer, one could see the sadness that filled his entire being. Trowa, unlike the rest of the children in the orphanage, was very quiet. Having this quality gave him an air of mystery that the other children did not bother discovering. They had long since decided that they would rather find fun things to do other than disturb this boy who seemed to dislike their attention. Trowa was unknowingly warding off everyone around him. It was not his fault but the caretakers in the orphanage couldn't do anything about it. All of the children were afraid of him and they just preferred to avoid him.

"Don't worry about it Trowa. I'll find you a group for tonight's activity."

"Really?"

"Yes. Now, get in your costume so that we could start early. There are quite a number of houses in the other side of town that are willing to give out lots of candy. Wouldn't you like that?"

Trowa didn't answer, but as he was getting into his big, baggy, green pants, he suddenly stopped as if remembering something. He knew that he would be an outcast again just like he had always been.

Sensing his distress, the kind lady comforted him. "You're not alone, honey. It just seems like it. I know that there's an angel out there watching over you all the time."

"An angel?"

"Yes. Everyone has a guardian by their side. You can't see them all the time but they're always there."

Trowa listened intently, digesting everything that he heard. And so she continued with her tale of angels, almost causing an entire group of children to cry out with complaints. These kids were obviously getting impatient by the minute.


	2. One B

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One B

On the other, brighter side of town, a boy with platinum blonde hair and blue green eyes about the same age as Trowa, could be seen running down a grand staircase with dozens of servants following behind.

"Master Quatre, stop running or you might hurt yourself."

The child ignored the warning and continually ran around the house, but he was stopped in his tracks as two strong arms lifted him.

"Causing trouble again?" said his father.

"No. I just don't wanna go this year with everybody watching me from behind. It's not fair. I wanna go with other kids my age. And besides, I think that *they're*..." pointing at the proud bodyguards off to the side " ... beginning to scare people."

"Now Quatre, you know that it's very dangerous for you to go without them. Everyone knows who you are and they'll come after you for sure. After all, you are the ..."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it many times before. It's because I'm the heir. I get it." With a sigh, he looked up at his father with clear annoyance that quickly turned into a mischievous smile.

"Okay. But first, ... they'll have to catch me."

With those last words, he quickly pulled away from his father's hold and continued his little game of 'catch me if you can'.

After an hour of nonstop running, one of the servants was able to catch him. Within the next two hours, a group of 15 very tired people were finally able to bathe and dress him in his costume. It was a simple, white outfit with matching wings and a gold circular object that hung just above his head. 

"That's our baby!"

"Now that outfit would match his room perfectly. I told you that those cloud-like pillows would look nice. It absolutely matches the scheme of the room."

"Excuse me, but I think that we're talking about his outfit. You've got to stay more focused. Now, isn't he just adorable?"

"Awwww. Look at that. Our cute wittle brother. He's the most precious thing on earth."

"Correction. That's *heaven* and earth."

Quatrejust blushed as his twenty nine wonderful sisters complemented him from head to toe. Hestarted to fidget as if wanting to run somewhere, but he was completely surrounded on all sides. Finally, after a few more minutes of complements, his savior entered the room.

"Girls, he'll never get enough candy if you keep him here any longer. C'mon Quatre. We better get going."

"See you later sweety pie. Don't forget to bring home lots of candies for your beautiful sisters."

Finally given a chance for a moment of peace, Quatre ran to his father. They made their way down the staircase where he was handed down to the army of servants who were going to watch over him. 

"Today," Quatre thought "...is finally going to be the day I spend some quiet time alone. My plan better work this year."


	3. One C

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One C

Endless amounts of children gathered around the town from end to end as the night wore on. Trowa was making his rounds alone, probably deciding to leave his group behind to go on a solo mission. It didn't seem like he was very successful from the look of his candy bag. Although he looked absolutely adorable in his fluffy clown costume, he didn't make such a good impression with the frown that was plastered on his face. Not wanting to go any further because of the shame of his failure, he decided to sit on the sidewalk and start consuming the few pieces of candy he had gathered. While chewing the sweets, he kept on thinking about the phenomenon called angels.

Not far away, Quatre could be seen followed by forty hulking men. He had the whitest, brightest costume of all the kids running around. It may have been because of his bright smile as he said the words "tick or treat", or it may have been because of the force of intimidation coming from the men behind him that he got the largest amounts of candy of all the children in the street that night. In fact, five of his servants carried bags filled with candy on both hands. He skipped happily down the street oblivious of the two men watching from the corner.

In that dark corner were two men, one larger that the other. They were currently talking about the plan they were going to execute that night.

"What? Do you know what it would be like to be beaten to death by forty large and angry men that could crush us like ants?" said the taller one.

"That's not what I mean! Of course we won't attack them. Are you nuts? We're going to separate him from everyone else." replied the smaller one.

"Fine. I don't know how that could be possible anyway. That kid is even more protected than the sons and daughters of royalty. He better be worth all this trouble."

"Oh, he'll be worth it. After we get our dough, we're going to systematically destroy Winner and his family."

The larger, more reluctant man just gave his companion a look of disbelief as he entered the car, waited for his companion, and sped off. The smoke coming from the car was thick enough to momentarily render Trowa blind from his chosen spot on the sidewalk. He was coughing from all that smoke that had entered his lungs.Out of confusion and extreme frustration from the unlucky turn of events that day, he suddenly screamed the words "I want my angel,...NOW!"

The vibration from the speeding car, the smoke that almost choked him to death, and a very startling scream from below was enough to make Quatre loose his balance and fall from the tree he was perched on at the moment.

"Ouch!" he said as he was getting up and rubbing his behind. The smoke from the car was just starting to clear up, letting the light from a lamp post just above him shine brightly against his ruffled golden hair. He truly looked like an angel from all the angles of the light. When the smoke completely cleared, he saw the figure of a boy, about his age, in a yellow and green clown costume, with his mouth wide open and eyes filled with disbelief, shock and joy. 

They just stared at each other for what seemed like forever. After a few more moments of silence, the boy dressed as a clown decided to break the silence.

"My dream came true." he whispered. Then, he ran toward his angel and hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go any time soon. 


	4. One D

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One D

This time, it was Quatre's turn to be shocked. Why was this other boy hugging him like there was no tomorrow?

"Ummm, excuse me?"No answer. 

"Ummm, hello?"

"Excuse me?" he said as he tapped the other's back.

"Yes, angel?" the clown said, still holding on.

"Ummm, sorry, but that's not my name."

"Of course it's not." and he finally released the angel. My name is Trowa. Trowa Barton. At least that's the name that the people in the orphanage gave me. So what's yours?" Trowa couldn't believe that he was actually initiating the conversation.

"Quatre Raberba Winner. Nice to meet you." He stretched out his hand for a formal hand shake just as he was taught but he was, again, shocked as the other accepted it with both hands.

"So, angels do have such lovely names!"

"Ummm, I'm not really an angel."

Those words almost broke Trowa's heart as he turned away tear filled eyes. He was about to run just about anywhere from shame, shock, and disappointment. As he started to move, two small hands grasped his arm.

"I'm so sorry." Quatre said, but he knew that it wouldn't make things better. 

"He looks so sad" he thought. "I could at least make him happy. Besides, it seems like my plan to be alone for tonight wasn't really going to happen. However, I was successful in loosing the big bodyguards for tonight."

With his decision made up, Quatre gave Trowa his most winning smile and said "I'll be your angel if you want me to."

The sadness in Trowa's face suddenly disappeared as he again, reached out and hugged his 'new' guardian angel.

"I think I'm running out of air. Angels still need to breathe, you know."

"Oh, okay." It was clear, though, that he was reluctant.

Quatre, then ran back to the tree and when he returned, he had with him a bag of candy.

"Here, want some of my candy? You could bring the whole bag home if you want."

"Thanks, but I have no home."

"You live on the street?"

"No, an orphanage."

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to find your family?" 

"Really?"

"Sure, why not." Quatre knew that he was making a very big promise but he really did plan on fulfilling that promise. Unlike a lot of other children, he was very sincere with his words. His father did have a lot of contacts so he could ask his father for a favor. He knew that everyone back home would grant his every wish. 

It was just so perfect for Trowa. An angel who had fallen from the sky not only showered him with gifts of sweet candy, but also promised him a family. Plus, the angel looked so heavenly that he just started to stare, giving appropriate nods when needed.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

When Trowa heard this question, he was alarmed. He suddenly realized that this 'quiet' act of his was how he lost so many potential friends. If he kept this up, his angel would get bored and decide to leave him for another. Not wanting his angel to leave, Trowa decided to talk. This was his new mission. He wanted to make his angel happy so he did something he thought he would never do. He held a conversation with someone that lasted for more than five minutes. It felt really good.


	5. One E

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One E

It was getting dangerously late as Quatre and Trowa continued talking. Being so involved in the conversation, they were not aware that they were being watched by the two men who drove off in the car just a few hours ago.

"Oh my, our little rich angel has finally left his troop behind. Now's our chance."

"But, what about the other kid?"

"Who cares? He's probably just some nobody. Nobody will believe a word he says. "

With that, the two moved towards the unsuspecting children. The larger man grabbed Trowa, attempting to get him out of the way. When Quatre saw this, he immediately stepped on the man's foot, bit his arm, and grabbed Trowa's hand. He looked back and found out that there was no place to run. Behind them was a tall, brick wall that would prove to be unbreakable and unreachable by two small kids. Not knowing what else to do, Quatre hid Trowa behind him and faced the two large figures before him in a fighting stance. He looked just about ready to fight back. After all, he did promise the other that he would be his angel. This meant that he had to protect him.

"We're not after him, kid. It's you we're after. That's very cute though. Awww, I should've brought a camera." Said the smaller one sarcastically.

"Shut up and get the kid already." The larger man was clearly getting nervous.

"No, really. Who knew little angel face here would have the guts to protect that worthless kid behind him? That's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Too bad not everything can last forever."

"If you're going to continue blabbering, I'll do it." With that, the larger man grabbed Quatre, stuffed his mouth with a rag, tied him up with a rope, put him in a large bag, and placed him inside the trunk of the car.

"All this work just because the kid's a Winner. I'm telling you, we better not get caught."

"For crying out loud! You can't even see him, hear him, or smell him. I think those precautions were more than necessary."

"I disagree. I think that we should think about this again step by step. We might've left some hair of his somewhere or some fingerprints."

"You idiot! We *are* taking his hair and fingerprints with us. What the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to get caught. Hey, where's that other kid?"

Because the two were too busy arguing, they never noticed Trowa run over to the public phone just beside the brick wall. He had called the authorities and they were on their way. Both men realized that they were going to get caught if they didn't do something fast. So, they went inside the car and drove off, not remembering that they had left a witness behind.

"Hey! Give me back my angel!" Trowa cried as he ran in the direction of the car. The car was too fast for his short legs so he ended up in the middle of the street.

"So, you've decided to become a dog, have you? C'mon you're in big trouble. You should know better than to separate from the group and chase cars. It's already late and you've got everybody worried." an annoyed but concerned lady said as she appeared next to him.

"But they got my angel!"

"Don't be silly. It's too late for this."

The argument continued on their way home. For the first time in a long time, Trowa kept on talking. Knowing that this was such a rare phenomenon, the adults in the orphanage indulged him. They listened to everything he said, but with very little interest though. Then Trowa decided to name his angel and everyone in the building, including the children fell silent.

"My angel's name is Quatre Raberba Winner. Hmph!"

"Oh my lord!" all the adults yelled out loud as they realized what had just happened.


	6. One F

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part One F

As soon as the caretakers in the orphanage found out that Trowa was serious about his encounter with Quatre and the kidnappers, they immediately sent for the authorities. The Winner family, intent on finding Quatre, decided to take Trowa in with them. He was, after all, a viable witness, putting him in danger. If he could pinpoint the criminals, then it was inevitable that they would come after him. So, the very lucky Trowa won himself a trip to his angel's heaven.

"This is where you're going to be staying. We were going to give you one of the guest rooms but it seems that you're very fond of Quatre. So, my sisters and I thought that this would suit you. Besides, those guest rooms are too dull for kids."

As the door was opened, Trowa hesitantly peered in as if making sure that he deserved to be in Quatre's room, *the* so called heaven. Where else would an angel live, anyway?

"I hope you like the theme going on in here. My sisters and I designed everything. Get yourself comfortable and we'll call you for dinner." With that said, the petite young lady left without another word.

Trowa cautiously walked in and when he finally saw the room's entirety, his jaw dropped reflecting astonishment.

"So *this* is heaven!" he exclaimed.

Coincidentally, Quatre's room was decorated in a way that resembled the heaven itself. The room was filled with the rays of the sun that illuminated its surroundings. The thick blue carpet cradled Trowa's feet like cotton soft clouds as he made his way around the room. Realistic looking clouds as well as a few angels with golden tassels were painted on the walls and in the ceiling. The sheets that lay across the large bed were of a light blue color perfectly matching the motif. There were also some cloud shaped pillows that were scattered throughout the room. It was absolutely mesmerizing. It looked like Quatre's sisters did go somewhat too far in portraying their little brother as an angel.

"This is just too perfect, dad. I told you we're not the only ones with an angel obsession." The young girl who left Trowa just a minute ago approached her father, delighted with her discovery.

"Well, I wouldn't go as far as saying that he's obsessed. He just loves the idea, the scheme of things as they are right now. The people at the orphanage told me that he doesn't have friends his age. Quatre was the very first. He's just seeing things the way he wants to see them."

The next few days that Trowa spent with the family proved to be the second best experience of his short life. The first, of course, was the meeting with his guardian angel. He enjoyed every bit of this new found heaven as much as the family enjoyed his presence. Both parties grew fond of each other, relishing in their similarities as well as their differences. Time passed by quickly, the situation at hand almost forgotten.

It was only on the tenth day since Quatre's abduction that the kidnappers called. By the way they were handling things, it was obvious that they were not professionals. Taking ten days to actually come up with a plan had proved the theory true. The, of course, wanted a large amount of money for ransom in exchange fro Quatre. They wanted it delivered by Mr. Winner himself knowing that he would never dare jeopardize the safety of his only son. It was the usual tactic, leaving the authorities with a lot of possible scenarios to choose from.

Everything was in order the day the exchange was to be made. Everyone spent day and night constructing what looked like a flawless plan to get Quatre back safely. Trowa was surprisingly very helpful during the whole process. The suggestions he made proved, beyond a doubt, that he was very intelligent. In fact, he had even been more helpful than the people who were more than twice his age. The Winner family was thoroughly impressed at the quiet boy's display.

At the strike of twelve, two men, one large, the other smaller, could be seen in a dark alley holding a child still dressed in his Halloween outfit, effectively restrained.

"This better work." said the larger man as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and fidgeted, nervous about the upcoming confrontation.

"Stop it! I already told you that I have everything planned out perfectly. Everything is under control." The smaller man was clearly annoyed.

"But ..."

"Shhh! Here he comes."

Quatre's father cautiously walked towards the two men who were holding his son captive. When he was about two feet away, he was told to stop. His eyes focused on the people before him, worried that the man that held his son might pull the trigger directed on the small, delicate head.

"That distance is far enough. You know the deal. Leave the bag in front of you and move backwards, away from it ... slowly!"

Mr. Winner did as he was told. During the whole ordeal, he kept his eyes focused on Quatre who's fear was evident in his eyes.

From the car in the far corner, a small head with brown hair could be seen appearing from the window. It had been agreed upon earlier that only Mr. Winner would meet the kidnappers to prevent any suspicion and unneeded hostility. Trowa, however, as stubborn as he was, sneaked in the car unnoticed. Here he was now, as curious as ever, watching the confrontation before him. He was delighted to see his angel once again, still looking as heavenly as they day they had met. He was starting to go into another one of his daydreams when, all of a sudden, his fantasies came crashing down. He watched as the smaller man shot his angel at the back of his head as he was walking towards his father. All he could do at that moment was scream hysterically, ignoring the arrival of the police and ignoring the events that went on afterwards.


	7. Two A

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two A

"Trowa, stop talking to those lions and get dressed for our performance already. We don't want to keep our audiences waiting."

A girl with curly brown hair and gray eyes appeared from behind Trowa and pulled him up from his position by the cages and shoved him into one of the dressing rooms.

"... and try to be nice to the children today. We wouldn't want to have them growing up scared of clowns, now would we?" she said as she laughed heartily, about to add another remark when she was quickly pulled over to the side.

"Was he telling those lions about his little angel encounter again? It's bad enough that he wanders around trying to find a church everywhere we go just to look at those angel paintings."

A large man dressed in a red coat, presumably the ring master looked sternly at the young lady before him.

"You know how he is. He isn't exactly very social with other people. Just let him do what makes him happy." the young girl explained.

"Catherine, this isn't normal! He's been doing it for years. This little obsession of his is getting out of hand and ..."

"So, you say my heir is still dreaming of angels?" a deep voice suddenly interrupted the conversation between Catherine and the man, startling both of them.

"Mr. Winner!" It was as if the wealthy businessman appeared out of nowhere.

"Don't worry about him. I, admittedly, still dream about *my* angel and I doubt that I've gone insane." he said, reassuring them.

"I'm sorry. We shouldn't even be reminding you of these things." Catherine immediately interrupted, hoping that their recent conversation did not cause their new visitor any grief.

"My son's memory will always remain with me, but ... I believe that it is time to move on and take care of my *other* son. I know that my angel would have wanted me to." he said solemnly.

Catherine looked at him and understood what he meant. She was very grateful that she had found her brother and somehow, she believed that the young blonde was *really* Trowa's angel. 

"Mr. Winner, I can't thank you enough for what you did for my brother. Please, if there's anything you need, just ask." she said.

"Well, I was hoping to get vacant seats for tonight's show. My daughters have been begging me for weeks to come here. They really want to see Trowa." he suggested, remembering his daughters' antics the night before.

"Excuse me, Mr. Winner, you didn't happen to bring those foot soldiers with you, did you?" The ring master, quiet for so long, suddenly interjected, afraid of the answer.

"Eh... umm.. you wouldn't mind, would you?" the man asked hesitantly while scratching his head, a bit embarrassed.

"Nonsense!" Catherine exclaimed. "He wouldn't mind at all! The thirty seats for you and your daughters will be ready and ... I'll find a way to get another forty vacant seats. That won't be a problem."

The ring master's eyes widened but Catherine quickly calmed him down by reassuring him that she would take care of everything.

"Well, as long as Catherine promises to do it, I wouldn't mind." he said, addressing Mr. Winner.

Meanwhile, from one of the far tents, Trowa was watching the exchange. His movements were focused on dressing himself, but his eyes and ears were concentrated on the interaction he was observing. 

True, he had been deemed insane by many, but nobody had the heart to confront him. He knew what was happening, but didn't mind at all. All his thoughts were focused on the more important details of his life such as the gifts his angel from long ago had given him.

It came as a great shock to the five year old to see something as horrid as the execution of his angel. He never believed the scene he witnessed before him, thinking that it was all just a bad dream. Even after ten years, he still hoped that his angel would return, not understanding that *his* angel was a deceased being namedQuatre Raberba Winner. 

His beliefs, of course, had some ground to it. After all, his angel had given him everything he had promised. He now had a family, ... two families even. He lived with his true family, his sister Catherine and often, his adopted family would visit him. Not only had his angel granted him his wish, he also got an extra family out of the deal. That wasn't bad at all.

Now, Trowa never remembered asking for candy other than the ones offered to him that glorious night, but he was given that anyway. True, his abundance of candy could not be eaten but it sure was useful when he wanted to buy something. He was the new Winner heir, one of the richest beings in the universe. His credibility was never contested and nobody tried to harm him because of that. What more could he ask for?

"I still want to see my angel." he thought, never believing that magnificent being from long ago had actually left him. After all, how could he grant Trowa's every wish if he no longer existed?

Trowa started to debate with himself yet again as a hoard of women came pouring in his room, unaware that their little brother was still not fully dressed.


	8. Two B

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two B

Somewhere, in a different part of the world, an old woman could be seen laying on her deathbed, oblivious to the noise that was filling her surroundings.

"Maman, ne nous laissez pas, s'il vous plaît!" [1] could be heard over and over again as grieving family members wailed uncontrollably.

The loud and rather disturbing cries only seemed to intensify the depressing mood of the people that were in the hospital. The nurses, hearing the sounds of turmoil, were quick to their feet. They immediately entered the room, intending to calm down the mourning family. 

The old woman, in turn, still did not notice the chaos that was permeating the air. She just gazed quietly and steadily at the wall before her. All of a sudden, bright lights emanated from the walls, engulfing her surroundings and engaging her senses.

From that brilliant light emerged a boy with glorious white wingsthat spread from end to end. Above his head was a golden ring that glowed intensely, accenting his beautiful blonde hair and immaculate face.

"Vous êtes un ange, n'est ce pas?" [2] the woman said with a hoarse voice, unable to take her eyes off the splendid figure that was floating before her.

"Oui." [3] he said, his voice sounding sweet against the other, now inaudible sounds that filled the room. "Êtes-vous prêt à venir avec moi?" [4] he then asked.

His eyes were clear and bright, full of promise and sincerity that the old woman could not help but reach out to the hand that was offered to her. It was at that instant that she felt at peace, looking thoughtfully down at the world she was leaving behind.

"How did the last one in Luxembourg go?"

An angel of bigger stature who looked elegant with golden blonde hair that flowed through his back emerged from the curtain of clouds, beckoning the smaller one before him to move closer. An air of wisdom and authority surrounded him as he floated amidst the heavenly sight.

"It went well." the smaller angel simply answered as he flopped down on a stray cloud that drifted by.

"Quatre, you really don't seem pleased with the results."

The younger angel Quatre released an exasperated sigh and looked down at his feet that swung back and forth while he shifted positions on his comfortable, makeshift seat. He knew that now was the best time to explain to the other how he really felt about his duties.

"I really don't like taking souls away from those that cherish them." The statement was short and simple, but it held a lot of truth and meaning to it.

"But this task fits you perfectly." was the response. "I doubt that there are any souls out there that would refuse you. It just takes one look at you for anybody to trust you unconditionally."

"That's what's disturbing me."

The older angel's face lit up with amusement and wonder at the other's remark. He looked at Quatre earnestly, his questioning face eliciting a hesitant answer.

"I'd rather be a guardian." Quatre said softly, embarrassed at his seemingly selfish request. All the angels had their own duties which they performed without question. Unfortunately, he was unhappy with his. He felt guilty, but he also felt that he was reasonable.

"That involves a lot of work and attention." the other quickly answered.

"I'm aware of that." 

The smaller angel was very proud of his answer. He knew that he could handle the responsibilities that would be given to him, whatever they were. It was obvious that this was what he had wanted for so long. 

He raised his chin up in pride. His eyes were pleading and almost demanding when he stared hopefully at the magnificent figure before him. The figure could not help but notice the other angel's resolution. 

"Well then, ..." the older angel said, a bit hesitant of what he was going to do "... we'll see what can be done about that."

Quatre immediately bolted from his seat and ran straight for the one before him. They both landed softly on the clouds as the young angel embraced his guardian thankfully.

Composing himself as he stood, the older, now disheveled angel said "I should have known that was coming." 

He watched the excitement build in the young one's eyes. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief, remembering that he had once guarded a little boy named Quatre Raberba Winner, naughty but sweet, naive yet determined. 

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_French Translation:_

[1] _Maman, ne nous laissez pas, s'il vous plaît _-- Mom, don't leave us, please!

[2] _Vous êtes un ange, n'est ce pas? _-- You are an angel, right?

[3] _Oui._ -- Yes.

[4] _Êtes-vous prêt à venir avec moi? _-- Are you ready to come with me?


	9. Two C

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two C

Back in the circus, Trowa tried, unsuccessfully, to hide himself from the stares he was receiving. He grabbed the first piece of clothing he could get a hold of and tried to cover as much of himself as possible.

"Woah! Trowa, have you been working out?"

"Oh my, our little brother has become a hunk'a hunk'a man since we've last seen him!"

Trowa just stood in the middle of the crowd of women gathering around him, furiously blushing and still trying to clothe his bare self. It was getting harder for him to do so when his pathways were blocked from all sides. He reached blindly for the rest of his outfit and suddenly felt someone poking his arm.

"Trowa, these are really well-defined biceps. How much do you lift? ... and is that a six pack?"

One of his sisters grabbed a hold of the insufficient cover Trowa was holding against himself and exposed his perfectly sculpted stomach. Within seconds, the crowd moved even closer into the circle as mounds of women examined him and bombarded him with questions as well as complements.

"You know, it's a wonder you don't have a girlfriend. You're absolutely stunning! What do you say, girls? Shall we set him up with someone?"

It didn't take long before someone answered. "I agree! ...but first, we've got to spice up his personality. That would be a good start!"

The tent was then, filled with voices of young women, giggling and making numerous suggestions. By this time, Trowa had given up on trying to hide himself. He just stood shyly in his spot with face cast downwards, hoping that his savior would come soon.

Fortunately, his silent pleas were heard when Mr. Winner entered the tent.

"Girls, I think that Trowa needs to get ready without us disturbing him. He'll be late for his performance." He motioned his hand towards the exit. All the twenty nine women looked at their father and followed him obediently out the tent, each giving Trowa a good luck kiss. 

Before following his daughters out, Mr. Winner gave Trowa a pat in the back. "Good luck, son." he said and then left.

Just as he thought that he would be spared from further embarrassment, a sister peeked in the tent and said, in a hurry "...Trowa, we brought you some new outfits and some other stuff for your place. I bet you'll never guess what today's theme will be. Bye. See you later."

Trowa froze after that and started picturing his room in colorful wallpapers, filled with stuffed elephants and lions, and of course, clown shaped pillows. He couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Moments later, he heard Catherine's voice calling him, effectively ending his musings.

"Hurry up! It's almost time for our act. Your adoring fans await you!" she said as she chuckled to herself because she knew exactly what was going to happen. Of course, this wasn't the first time his adopted family had come to visit.

When the curtains rose, Trowa tried as hard as he could to look anywhere but *at* the crowd. He was blushing again as he presented himself before his audience. It felt strange that the only time he felt uneasy was when his 'family' was watching. The roaring cheers form the crowd only seemed to further his discomfort.

"That's our baby!"

"Master Trowa, watch out for those knives!"

"We'll save you from those lions, Master Trowa!"

Trowa felt like a cute little two year old, subjected to hours of presentation to aunts that would constantly pinch his cheek. On the other hand, he was overjoyed that he now had two loving families that lived to praise him.

Ignoring, or at least trying to ignore the familiar voices, Trowa tried his best to look professional by not hiding his face behind his hands. Amazingly enough, he was able to keep a straight face that gave nothing away of how he felt at that moment. The only signs of uneasiness that could be seen was through his slightly flushed cheeks. Catherine couldn't help but be amused by her brother's reactions, hidden from the crowd but very visible from her view.


	10. Two D

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two D

"Congratulations! You are now a guardian."

The news came quickly for the young angel who had been patiently for the older angel's return.

"Really? That was fast!"

Before the other could even prepare himself, the small load was again attached to him as they both fell softly on the clouds under them. 

"Thank you." Quatre said with much delight. "Even in heaven, you still watch over me."

"Believe me. I've always enjoyed that responsibility" The older angel answered.

He lifted the still elated angel off of him and deposited him on a cloud that drifted by.

"Look..." he said. "I've got to prepare you for this. As much as I enjoy your enthusiasm, I doubt that you know exactly what to do."

Quatre nodded, looking much like a child who was excited to learn about something new.

"You will be guarding the soul of a boy." he began. "Umm, I don't know how to explain this ... how shall I say it? Well, he's never had a guardian before."

"That's awful!" Quatre said, looking sorrowfully at the other.

"Don't so that! You're going to make me cry!" The older angel was teasing but he did get swept away by the other's expression. He sat beside Quatre and continued.

"It seems that we made a mistake. He's been accidentally looked over on the list. These kinds of mistakes are very improbable, but it does happen. Don't worry!" he suddenly piped up. "That means that he's always been meant for you. Otherwise, his soul wouldn't have come up just when we were trying to find you a match. Now, isn't that nice?"

Quatre nodded his head again, excitement being replaced with a solemn expression.

"He's a little unresponsive, a bit sad even, but I know that you'll make him happy. You will, won't you?" the older angel asked, shaking Quatre out of his despondent state.

"Of course I will!" Quatre cried out in defense for his capabilities.

"I don't doubt you, Quatre. I'm sure you will."

It didn't take long for Quatre to hear everything he needed to know about the soul he was going to be watching over. Within minutes, he was able to commit every single detail to memory. Now, there was only one, important detail left out.

"So, what's his name?" he asked.

"Let me check." 

The older angel looked through what seemed like a file of some sort and then said "... Trowa Barton."

Quatre was stunned at the familiarity of the name. He had faint memories of a friend he had met years ago. He remembered a sad, despondent boy dressed like a clown. The events that took place afterward hit him like a bullet that instantly awakened him to the gravity of the situation.

"I promised him so many things." 

His thoughts were overflowing with guilt at the realization that he had not been able to check back on the boy ever since he left the mortal realm. 

Quatre spread his wings right away and prepared himself for his journey below. 

"You're wrong." 

The abrupt response from Quatre only seemed to puzzle the older angel that was regarding him with immense concentration.

"He *had* a guardian. His angel had just been too busy doing something else. Trowa's been waiting for his angel to return someday." 

Passion and determination now surrounded Quatre as he took flight.

"He'll get his wish because his angel is returning to him."

The sweet voice was now inaudible as the newly appointed guardian made his way down to the beautiful expanse of the earth.


	11. Two E

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two E

When Quatre arrived at his destination, he found Trowa walking out of a tent, looking very exhausted for some reason.

"Those performances must be tough." Quatre thought.

His theory was proven wrong when he spotted someone very familiar grab Trowa's arm.

"Ok, remember what we said. Be careful Trowa!"

Of course, it was just like his dear sister to tire out anybody by the simple act of redecorating a room. Before he could even take a closer look at his sister, she disappeared into the tent as quickly as she appeared.

Trowa was ready to begin his walk when he was stopped by a deep voice, also familiar to Quatre.

"Master Trowa, it would be very dangerous for you to roam the streets at night. Perhaps it would be wise if we accompany you."

"So, my family had taken care of him after all." Quatre was now talking to himself.

Trowa, on the other hand, was beginning to get tired of the constant protection he had around him. He was very grateful of everyone's concern so he just wanted to respond courteously. He massaged his forehead trying to think of a polite translation for 'leave me alone.'

Quatre noticed his exasperation from his position behind the bushes. He couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he remembered the attention he also received from his loving, but overprotective family. The chuckle immediately turned into laughter. Quatre had to quickly cover his mouth when he saw Trowa stare at the bushes with clear annoyance.

"What are you afraid of? He can't see you." Quatre had to remind himself of that fact. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on doing his job. Being nervous never seemed to help him with anything he had to do. 

"Oh, right!" he exclaimed, now with more confidence, knowing that none of this would be heard.

After reassuring himself one more time, he looked back at Trowa who now had three of his sisters trying to convince the larger man to allow Trowa solitude for the night.

"He's old enough for this. Aren't you, Trowa?"

Trowa did not say a word but he answered with his head nodding vigorously. Trowa was completely amazed that his sisters would let him out alone.

"If that's what makes Master Trowa happy." The large man said in defeat.

Relief came over Trowa as he walked towards his destination. Quatre began to follow him but stopped briefly to catch the faint whispers from the tent.

"Let him do this. Let him fulfill his desires and his illusions. So much has been taken from him. I know that this kind of self-imposed therapy could help him."

"But Master Quatre was..."

"Perhaps Quatre's fate was inevitable. As much as I'd hate to say it, I think that he was taken for a very good reason. I'm sure that he was always meant to be an angel."

Quatre smiled at his sisters' accuracy and continued to follow Trowa into the darkness of the night. 

The church was empty and very quiet when Trowa came in. After giving his respects, he made his way to the paintings on the walls. He looked with great concentration at the lovely artwork that surrounded him. Chubby angels covered in golden tassels danced before his eyes.

His expression changed and his eyes burned with fascination as he examined the walls, carefully feeling the texture of the paintings in his fingertips.

All this time, Quatre had been watching him with as much concentration as Trowa had for the painted angels. It was only in the light that Quatre had noticed Trowa's features, previously hidden by the dark night. 

Trowa still looked somber after all those years. However, he looked absolutely striking against the soft light that filled the inside of the church.

"You're amazing! You just radiate with an absolute splendor I can't begin to explain." 

Quatre was immediately awakened from his dazed state as Trowa exited the church through the majestic doors. Trowa walked back home in silence looking extremely bored, very distressed, and oddly annoyed as he had been earlier when he stared at the bushes.

Quatre continued following him, every now and then giving insightful comments about the figure that walked before him.

He then saw Trowa turn right instead of the intended direction as if trying to avoid something. This caught Quatre's attention right away. He became very worried at the other's disregard for safety and voiced out his concern.

"What is wrong with you?"

He knew that it was crazy to talk to someone who couldn't hear you, but he continued nonetheless. 

"I can't understand this! What am I going to do with you?"

All of a sudden, a voice other than his own cut through the darkness of the night.

"Stop following me."

Quatre looked left and right to find out who Trowa was talking to in a seemingly deserted street. He instantly paled, however, when he found out that he was the only one around. 


	12. Two F

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two F

"You can see me?" Quatre asked.

"Of course, that white outfit easily contrasts with the dark surroundings." The response was simple for Trowa who did dare to look in Quatre's direction.

Quatre couldn't say anything in response to that short, straightforward reply. He blushed, remembering all that he had said out loud the whole time he had been watching and following Trowa.

"This isn't funny."

The cold, detached voice interrupted Quatre's thoughts and completely baffled him.

"What do you mean?"

"Who hired you?" 

All Quatre was getting were very rude, evasive questions. Although he now understood the source of the other's distress, he was surprised that he could actually be heard or even be seen by a mortal soul. Another idea that stunned Quatre was the fact that Trowa did not appreciate the presence of his own guardian. He doubted that anyone, given the privilege to see such a great phenomenon, would inconsiderately toss aside the event with such uncouth questions of disbelief.

His fogged mind could not comprehend the situation and so he decided to have Trowa repeat the question if only to confirm what he heard.

"Could you say that again?"

"I said, 'who hired you?'"

"Why would you ask me something like that?"

This time, it was Quatre's turn to ask the questions.

"There is no need for you to go any further. I understand the joke and I don't mind as long as you leave me alone."

"What joke?"

Trowa turned to regard the person he was talking to. He intended to answer the naive question. Shock ran through his system, though, when he saw his companion. He was too stunned to utter a word.

Complete silence followed as Trowa studied the 'hired' angel that stood gloriously before his eyes.

"You look just like him, only older." he finally said, feeling a wave of disappointment at the realization that none of this was real.

His looked away and his eyes were now downcast as he headed, this time, to the right direction.

"I know people think I'm insane." 

Not once did he even try to look back at the person he was talking to.

"You're the third 'fake' angel this month. I must say, they're getting better every time. Go ahead and report back to your employer. Enjoy a good laugh, but please leave me in peace."

Quatre stood still, trying to digest what he had just heard. Shock and sorrow completely paralyzed him. 

He made no attempt to continue the conversation and decided to return when he would know exactly what to say or do. He stretched his wings and lifted himself from the ground. He flew up without even informing the other of his departure.

Trowa kicked a can in anger while walking back home. All of a sudden, a gush of wind blew through his back. Wanting to know the source of the strange movement in a completely deserted street, he looked back only to find the angel gone.

His eyes scanned the area entirely and found no trace of his former companion. His mind tried to comprehend the possibilities of such an event, but his heart told him that this time, it was not an illusion.

Just as he turned back to walk home, a white feather landed before his feet. He noticed that it's glow rivaled the darkness surrounding him. It's aura glimmered, creating a wave of mystery that tried to convince him of something. 

It was at that moment that all his mind's questions were answered and all his heart's hopes confirmed. 


	13. Two G

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two G

"You left him? Why? You're supposed to be a guardian. You are not allowed to leave his side!"

The older angel was completely caught by surprise when Quatre appeared behind him looking very perplexed. He, too, was confused by Quatre's sudden disregard for his new 'responsibility.' He had thought earlier that the young angel was very eager to meet the soul of Trowa Barton. Now, it seemed like his assumptions were wrong.

Without waiting for a question, Quatre explained himself.

"He saw me. He was confused. *I* was confused. It came as a shock. I didn't know what to tell him. He thought I was a fake. I didn't know that it was possible for them to see us. I didn't know what to do." 

The explanations came pouring out of his mouth, making him look somewhat like a child who had been accused of a grave fault.

"Calm down. You're not going to be condemned for leaving him."

It looked like the young angel was going to continue even after the reassurance. 

It was only after Quatre stopped his passionate defense for himself that the older angel explained what he understood about the situation.

"To my knowledge, no human soul is supposed to see us. Perhaps he had made this wish before and now it's being granted."

"Are you telling me that everyone down there gets what they wish for?"

"No. Only *his* wishes are granted."

"He's that special, huh?"

"No, not exactly. There is a possibility that he was granted this wish in exchange for our little mishap. Remember, he was never assigned a guardian." 

"Isn't that dangerous?"

The older angel laughed at the unrestrained curiosity of the young angel.

"He has a pure soul, Quatre. Such souls would never take advantage of such a rare opportunity. We make sure of that. Besides, he doesn't even know that he could do it." 

"What am I supposed to do?"

Panic quickly returned to Quatre as he remembered that he still had to return.

"That's for you to think about. I can't help you with this. Now, move along before Trowa gets into any kind of danger."

Quatre couldn't protest so he spread his wings and flew back down to the earth. The talk he had with the older angel did very little to contain his anxiety. Possible solutions to the situation were debated within his head as he slowly descended.

"I knew this was going to be hard for him." the older angel thought to himself.

"I still don't understand why they would give Quatre such a difficult case. He's just a neophyte after all."

Back on earth, Quatre materialized right in front of Trowa during one of his more dangerous performances. Quatre's shocked mind was only able to process his surroundings when he felt very little support beneath his feet. In fact, the only thing that was holding him up was a thin rope. 

Whatever balance he had was lost when Trowa, who was looking straight at him, said "What took you so long?"

The rope shook as he slipped. Before he could even flap his wings to levitate, Trowa grabbed his arm, easily pulling him back up.

"Oh my! A balancing act *and* a mime act. This is incredible!"

The audience cheered louder as they saw the young acrobat reach down to catch what they thought was an imaginary object.

"I can fly you know." Quatre said. 

He was a bit annoyed that it was him instead of Trowa who was surprised from their encounter under very unusual circumstances. He was, after all, the 'mythical' being whose existence had not been proven in the realm of human consciousness. His arms were crossed and he tried to frown.

"I've missed you, Quatre."

"What?" 

Quatre's balance was again lost at the sudden mention of his supposedly unspecified name.

Trowa did not waste any time as he grabbed the bewildered angel and hugged him tight, unmindful of the now completely baffled crowd beneath him.

It was then that Quatre remembered, once again, exactly what had happened the first time they met. He remembered the quiet boy being too forward and his unprepared self completely agreeing with whatever the other desired.

"Umm, Trowa, everyone's going to think you're crazy."

"I don't care."

The answer was short and simple, promising that the tight embrace was not going to end any time soon. 


	14. Two H

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Two H

The weeks that followed proved to be some of the best times of Trowa's life. People noticed that he smiled more. He would occasionally engage in small conversations that completely amazed all that knew him well. His sisters, in fact, would notice that instead of hiding in his corner, he would now participate in the redecoration of his own room. Although still reluctant to have a circus themed room, he would willingly indulge his sisters' obsessions.

There was, however, something peculiar about him that everyone noticed. True, they did enjoy the more open side of Trowa, but they did feel disturbed about his recent behavior.

Often, they would find him sitting under the shade of a tree, talking to the wind, the air, or some inanimate object within his voice range. During performances, he also seemed to be in conversation with an imaginary friend. Talking to the lions was already strange enough, but this new act of talking to himself was even more unusual.

Strange as it seemed, nobody minded this behavior. It didn't look healthy but it proved to be more effective than the most advanced medications available.

Years passed and soon, Trowa was an old man. Nightly performances were no longer a part of his schedule. Nonetheless, he still involved himself in the many activities of the circus. He taught all the newcomers, took care of the animals, organized groups while also attending to his immense wealth.

He was a constant visitor to numerous orphanages and had been known to donate large sums. Everyone adored him and praised him for living such an accomplished life. All this time he had fulfilled his life's dreams with his angel by his side.

One day, while walking on the shoreline in the early morning, he reluctantly told his angel something that had been bothering him for years.

"My only regret is that I never had you as my own."

The angel beside him turned to regard him, quite puzzled by the remark. His questioning eyes were still beautiful against his mysterious form.

"What do you mean?" he asked with the same sweet voice that had soothed Trowa for years.

"What I mean is ...." Trowa paused to thoroughly think about what he had to say. 

"You're an angel and I'm human. As much as I've wanted to, I can't have you completely for myself."

"I *am* yours, Trowa. I'm your guardian, remember?"

"Is that all you'll ever be?"

Quatre was stunned with the question. He seriously did not understand where this was going. 

He tried to find the meaning behind Trowa's words and when he did, sadness filled his entire being. Trowa loved him just as he loved Trowa. Their situation was so complicated and seemingly hopeless.

"Look at us right now." 

Trowa interrupted Quatre's thoughts. 

"We will never grow old together. We may share each other's company, but I ..." 

He didn't know how to put his feelings into words.

"I love what we have right now. I'm not complaining, but I feel that this ..." He moved his hands to indicate their condition. "... isn't complete. I just wonder how it would have been if it had happened differently."

Quatre hovered over to face Trowa. He looked at him intently, leaned over, closed his eyes, and delivered a gentle kiss.

"Maybe in a different lifetime." he said and then repeated in a hushed tone. "... Maybe in a different lifetime."

He went back to his position beside Trowa and tried to change the mood of the atmosphere.

"So, if you were given the chance to live differently, what would you change?"

"Probably my eccentric behavior."

"Trowa, you're not weird, just unique in your own way."

"People say that I'm too quiet."

"True, but everyone has a reason for acting the way they do."

Trowa looked at Quatre with the intention of asking the same question.

"What would *you* change?"

"Umm, I ... don't know. I'm not really sure. Maybe..."

"You're perfect the way you are." 

The sudden interruption caught Quatre off guard. He blushed furiously while Trowa regarded him, unwavering. Trowa was amused that after all this time, Quatre was still not used to his use of unending stream of compliments. Perhaps it was something he picked up from his sisters. Nevertheless, he loved using it if only to watch his angel turn lovely shades of pink.

Noticing that Quatre felt awkward, he decided voice out his mind's many scenarios.

"Maybe I should be an evil pawn of darkness and you, an angel. We'll meet each other and you'll turn my life around. We'll fall in love all over again."

"That would be nice, but it would pose a problem since the world is huge. You can't be sure that we would actually meet each other." Quatre said in response.

Trowa took his angel's hand and simply said "I'll find you." 


	15. Three A

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three A

"Trowa Barton, philanthropist, billionaire and former circus performer passed away yesterday at the ripe old age of ninety. He will forever be remembered as a great man who devoted his entire life to charitable causes. A memorial will be held tomorrow in remembrance of one of the greatest humanitarians of all time."

Quatre looked down at the newspaper solemnly.

"Don't worry Trowa." he said. "We'll both come back and find each other again." 

He looked at the earth as if wanting to make sure that everything was fine and glanced up at the sky as he slowly ascended into the heavens.

Decades later, in a large house somewhere north of the city, a boy could be seen seated on a large dining table. A look of boredom covered his features as he swirled the mashed potatoes on his plate. He was starting to doze off when he realized that his long, thick, brown bangs were touching his dinner.

"Trowa! Finish your dinner and stop playing with your food." 

Much to his father's dismay, the statement was blatantly ignored.

"…and try sleeping earlier tonight. You've been spending too much time decorating that tree of yours. Why don't you just put those regular ornaments and be done with it?"

"No! It has to be special." the boy answered, his voice increasing in volume.

"Stop trying to make that tree so perfect and stop trying to be so picky about what you put on it. If you don't, you'll never finish."

"Leave me alone dad! You just don't understand." By this time the boy was screaming.

With that said, he stalked off to his room, leaving a disappointed father and a crowd of baffled servants behind.

"That little brat!" one of the servants whispered harshly to another. "He better learn how to respect his elders."

"Keep it down. Mr. Barton will hear you."

Intent on continuing to voice out his opinions, the servant that had expressed his anger quickly grabbed as much people as he could into the kitchen.

"Mr. Barton should do something about that child's attitude." he continued. "That's the reason why he's been getting too stressed out lately. I think that it's just too much for a child to act this way."

Hearing the frustrated voices coming from the kitchen, more servants came in to join in on the discussion.

"That boy is never going to learn if his father doesn't reprimand him."

"He always gets what he wants."

"One of these days, he's going to learn his lesson."

The constant bickering continued on for quite some time until one of the servants let out a frustrated scream, obviously voicing out something that he had been keeping in for so long.

"He's the son of Satan!" he exclaimed.

Gasps of surprise were heard from all corners of the room. Everyone had felt the same way but no one had ever dared say it. Silence followed the remark and the initial surprise.

Just then, a stout, cheerful woman entered the kitchen with a laundry basket on hand.

"Is that so?" 

The uncouth comment had apparently traveled a great distance. She looked at her companions in disbelief.

"So, if he *is* the son of Satan then why does he dream of angels?" she asked.

All she received were incredulous stares that spoke more of their dislike for the boy than anything. They looked at her as if she had been possessed, used by the evil child as a tool for some sort of plan he had conjured up in his malevolent dreams.

In defense for his beliefs and suspicions, one man decided to speak up.

"Anything that comes out of his mouth is a lie and you know it. I bet he's lying to you so that he could use you against us."

"That is absolutely absurd! What did he do this time to make all of you think this?"

"Well," the chef responded. "Last night, he came into my quarters with a match in one hand and a can of gasoline on the other. He said he'd deliver me to hell if I didn't make him a chocolate fudge cake."

"Oh, come on. He was just teasing you."

"Is that," the chef said, pointing to his charred hat on the counter "…exaggerating?"

A majority of the crowd sympathized with the chef. With their beliefs reiterated and somehow proved through the burned hat, the verbal assault on the boy was gladly continued. 

It was starting to get late, however, and the laundry woman who was now laughing uncontrollably from the implausible statements she had been hearing had noticed this.

"Enough with the paranoia people." she interrupted."I'm sure he'll grow out of it. After all, he's only seven."

She wiped a tear from her eye and composed herself.

"I think that it's about time we get back to work. The little devil might be watching and he may just decide on roasting us for dinner if he sees what we're doing." she teased.

The timing was just right because just after that had been said, evil, childish laughter could be heard emanating from the boy's room.

Without a second thought, the servants quickly dispersed from the group and went back to work. 


	16. Three B

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three B

On the south side of the city, another boy could be seen sitting on a stool, lazily playing with some feathers that had fallen on the ground. A look of boredom covered his features as he sighed and blew the bangs off of his face.

"Quatre! It's your turn. Come up here so we could set you up."

The boy simply looked up in defiance at the lady who had called him. 

"Why do I have to do this? I always play the same part again and again and again. It's not fair!" he whined.

The lady looked at the pouting child with a hint of amusement filling her face.

"It fits you perfectly." was the only explanation she could give.

"No, it doesn't." 

It looked like he was definitely going to stick with his answer. He continued to sit on the stool with his arms crossed, ignoring everything else. 

All of a sudden, someone poked his back, causing him to topple over the stool. When he turned around, he saw his friend Duo grinning while trying to undo his braid.

"Hey pal! At least you get the good part. Look at me. I have to be a girl."

Duo mumbled something incoherently and suddenly realized the consequences of playing a girl even just for one play. He would surely be teased until the day he died. 

Resolved that the consequences were too great, he decided that he really didn't want to play the part. It was just too humiliating. 

In reaction to his discovery, he quickly faced the lady from across the room and did as Quatre had done. He crossed his arms and it looked like he was not going to cooperate any time soon.

"What am I going to do with you kids?" the lady reacted and raised her hands in defeat. In spite of this, she decided to hold her ground as she explained the situation they were in.

"We can't cancel this play. I'm going to get in trouble with your parents. The Christmas play will be in two days and it's too late to change all your parts."

She looked at Duo pleadingly and said "Do this for me, just once."

The answer she got was not something she hoped for, but it was definitely something she expected.

"No! I am *not* a girl so I don't wanna wear girly clothes."

"Duo, we had to give up our only available girl because she had the flu. We can't possibly haul her back here to play Mary when she's sick. Besides, that long hair of yours could fool anyone."

"But…" Duo started to open his mouth in response, but a hand quickly clamped it down from behind.

"I think Duo's going to do it, or else..." 

The owner of the hand gave Duo a quick look and then released his grip on the now furious boy.

"Fine then! At least you and Heero get to play kings. Why can't I be king? Kings are cool. I get to wear a crown and I get to have lots of gold and..." he continued to babble, not caring if anyone was listening.

"Thank you, Wufei." the lady said, momentarily ignoring Duo's incessant talk. She then looked at Heero who was patiently trying to convince Quatre to cooperate.

"Why don't you wanna do it, anyway?" 

His question was firm, but he was not the least bit annoyed at the other's reluctance.

"Umm, because I'm afraid of falling?" Quatre answered while trying to conjure up his most winning smile.

The smile didn't work too well because even before he could protest, Heero had already lifted him from the ground. Heero shook his head in disbelief and secured the irrational boy on the rope that had been set up earlier. He pulled on it and signaled for the others to get ready. 

When he thought that Quatre was secure enough, he screamed "One angel coming up!"

He pulled the ropes further and levitated Quatre while the still annoyed angel continued to cross his arms and mope. 


	17. Three C

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three C

"I wanted black ornaments with red fire, not blue." 

The words were said with such coolness that the servants surrounding the boy did not know what to expect. Considering recent events involving their young master, they thought that it would be better that the boy express his anger rather than keep them waiting for his oncoming rage.

"Give them to me tomorrow."

His demand was acknowledge by several nods from the servants save for one man who dared refuse the order.

"Trowa," he started, taking on a fearless, but irresolute tone. "We will have to find a particular store that makes these custom made ornaments. I don't think that we'll have enough time to accommodate your request."

The rest of the servants refused to affirm nor deny their companion's statement. It was either they face the boy's wrath now or they wait for the punishment later. It was apparent that the first choice seemed a lot more appealing than the later. At least, they thought, this would be finally dealt with.

"Really?" Trowa asked in response, now sounding a bit more cynical. 

Nobody answered his question. It was getting obvious that nobody would dare talk so he decided to play with them a bit more.

"Ok. I'll just wait like a good little boy." he said.

He motioned with his hand for everyone to leave his presence. At that moment, audible sighs of relief filled the room. The servants, one by one, started to approach the door, very much eager to leave the child's presence.

"Oh, and..."

They were so close to freedom, but alas, it was halted by the child's voice.

"Burn in hell!"

Without waiting another second, Trowa quickly took out his Halloween mask and flickered on and off his fiery red lamp and cackled evilly, sending shivers down everyone's spines. The dark room was filled with red, orange and yellow lights that only seemed to emphasize the existence of the atrocious mask. 

The poor servants immediately bolted for the door as sounds of sadistic laughter reverberated through the thick walls.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, ongoing practices for the Christmas play were being held.

"Has everyone memorized their lines?" the lady from earlier, the director of the play asked.

A united 'yes' from all of the children was the only answer she needed. Satisfied, she clapped her hands and signaled for everyone to take their places.

"Hey! Wait a minute!"

The startled director looked up to find out the cause of the distress call.

"Why don't *I* have any lines?" Quatre said indignantly from his position. He was still dangling from the rope with his arms crossed while the unstable support kept him moving around and around.

"I'm getting dizzy." he added.

"You do have a line, Quatre. It's the best one too!"

"...That? ...but it's so hard to say!"

"Hey, at least you don't have to wear a dress!" 

Quatre quickly turned his attention to his friend who had gathered with a group of other children. They were all looking up at Quatre curiously, eyes not leaving the sky circling boy.

"I *am* wearing a dress Duo!" Quatre exclaimed.

"Oops." Duo replied and decided not to interfere any further when the director whispered in his ears "Don't make it harder for us."

By this time, everyone was staring whimsically at the irate angel. 

"Ok Quatre. Try to say your line. We're all here to help."

Quatre was reluctant, but he didn't have a choice since everyone's stares were making him very nervous.

"Gworia in eshellshish deo."

The director shook her head and signaled for the group to help out. So, as one, the children said "Gloria in Excelsis Deo."

"Hmph." was how he expressed his gratitude.

Quatre began another one of his pouting sessions and said "At least you all don't have to be anormament."

"Ornament." all of the children said in unison.

So began another typical day of exhaustive rehearsals. 


	18. Three D

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three D

"But I want chocolate. This is mocha. I *hate* mocha."

Quatre was staring at the ice cream on his hands that was slowly dripping from its cone.

"C'mon Quatre. Mocha tastes a lot better." Duo said, pointing to Heero and Wufei who were rapidly consuming their mocha flavored ice cream.

"But..." his words were cut off when his ice cream toppled over its cone and landed squarely on his shirt.

"Oh dear!" a woman exclaimed from her position behind the counter.

"C'mon dear. Let's get you cleaned up." She handed over the cone she was holding to her companion and brought Quatre to the back, intent on getting him cleaned up.

While the three were waiting by the counter, an irritated Trowa stomped in angrily with an army of servants behind him. 

"You idiots better be right. I hate this part of town and I'm not coming back here ever again. After I get those ornaments, we're leaving!"

He pushed the three boys who were blocking his way and demanded that he be served ice cream.

"Lady, I want three scoops of chocolate ice cream right now. Make it fast."

The other woman at the counter was surprised at such a rude remark coming from such a sweet looking boy.

Before Trowa could even reach for his thick wallet, though, a small finger poked him, immediately calling his attention.

"That was not nice." Wufei said while Heero and Duo silently agreed with him. Heero stared at the rude little boy and pointed his water gun at him.

"Yeah!" Duo agreed. 

Doing as Heero did, he brought out his newest toy of destruction - 'The Deathscythe' and began threatening the other boy with it.

"Your puny weapons can't hurt me!" Trowa said.

He grabbed Duo's toy, dropped it on the floor and began stomping it until all that was left were scraps, remainders of a once perfect toy.

"That's funny. I think I'm crying." he said with obvious sarcasm and laughed manically, calling the attention of everyone in the ice cream shop.

Duo tried to hold back his tears as he stared at his broken toy. Heero and Wufei did not approve of such malicious actions so they decided to take revenge on the other boy.

Heero pointed his water gun once again at Trowa, but this time, he pulled the trigger. Trowa's face was instantly splattered with water.

"How dare you!" Trowa screamed. He immediately retrieved his newest state of the art toy. It was a thick, triple action machine gun, complete with missiles and a removable bazooka.

Heero remained calm and unfazed as tons of plastic bullets hit him. Wufei, on the other hand, was preparing for his attack. He was already starting to take out his plastic sword when he was unfortunately held back.

"I leave you kids for one minute and you all start fighting." 

It was the woman who had brought Quatre to the back earlier.

"He started it!" Wufei said and pointed at Trowa, intending to defend his and his friends' honor.

"I don't care who started it." the woman answered. "Everyone better make up right now before I get Quatre out. You know how upset he gets when he sees you boys fighting."

Trowa just laughed at the woman's statement.

"Oh, I'm so scared." he said, mocking her. It was obviously a fake display. 

"What kind of toy does your Quatre have anyway? What? Is he gonna wave his fairy wand and make bad little me disappear?"

"You're very close." was Duo's answer.

Trowa was slightly caught off guard by the unexpected remark. He then looked at Wufei who had decided to join in.

"Well, he's got magic 'cause he's an angel. He's going to umm..." Wufei had to pause and think over what exactly angels did. "He's, umm... going to give you to the bad people?" That was the best explanation he could think of.

"Liars!" Trowa exclaimed. "Angels are not real!" His eyes were suspiciously filling with unshed tears at the mention of the word 'angel'.

"Slaves!" he quickly called out to his servants, hoping that his reaction was not noticed. "Buy me some ice cream and bring it to me in the car. I don't want to see them anymore."

One of the servant proceeded to the counter to purchase his master's desire while Trowa stormed out of the ice cream shop.

Just as the door slammed shut signaling Trowa's departure, the curtains to the back of the counter shuffled signaling Quatre's arrival.

"This shirt is too big." Quatre said as he struggled against tripping over the shirt he was wearing. Everyone immediately turned their attention to him, mouths ajar.

"What?" he asked.

What had caught the people's attention was Quatre's attire and how the little boy had positioned himself in front of the counter. 

He was wearing a large, white shirt that covered his arms and reached far below his knees, making it look like a flowing garment. Behind him was a painting of flying ice cream cones and clouds. On the top were the words 'ice cream cone heaven' with the 'o' from cone the only letter lighting up. It was perfectly tilted to the side, making it look like a glowing, oblong ring.

When one would look from where they stood, they would notice that Quatre, in his white outfit, had wings and a heavenly ring around his head. He was positioned amidst painted clouds.

Everyone kept on looking from the closed door of the shop to the angel that stood by the counter. They looked back and forth and then questioned each other, noting that those coincidences were very, very disturbing.

Suddenly, a loud scream coming from outside caught their attention.

"I said chocolate. This is mocha. I *hate* mocha."

Quatre smiled at the remark, clapped his hands together and looked at Duo saying "See? I told you so!"


	19. Three E

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three E

"So Mr. Barton, let's start from the top."

A young psychiatrist sat in a large, cozy couch while her patient reclined in a sofa to the side. His head was laid on a pillow and his arms were lazily hung on his sides. Not long after he settled down on the couch, his body started to fidget, as if wanting to release some pent up secrets that were threatening to consume him.

"My son." was all he said.

"Ok, what about your son bothers you, Mr. Barton?"

"Everything about him bothers me. I think he's been born to make my life a living hell."

"Please explain further."

Mr. Barton sighed. He knew this was going to be another one of those sessions where he would end up yakking about his son until his one hour was up. He was very sure that this psychiatrist had a purpose for him and that purpose involved lots and lots of cash. These sessions weren't helping him and he felt that they might as well poke him with a stick until all the coins fall out.

"Ok. Fine. I'll tell you, just like I did last time."

He inhaled deeply and began his tale.

"Remember, I told you that he's the demon's pawn?"

"Yes." The psychiatrist was not going to comment on that yet again.

"He causes so much trouble with everyone. He's been threatening the servants, letting his pet snakes roam around the house to find their own dinner, terrorizing the kids in school, kissing all the girls, etc., etc. etc. You know what I mean, right?"

"Of course, but what's so bad about kissing girl?"

"He said it's the only way to shut them up. He has this little inclination to see them run from fear of him. You see, they think he's a demon too."

"Maybe he just wants attention."

"I *do* give him the attention he needs. I get him everything he wants. I spend at least half of my day trying to do something with him. I even listen to his whimsical little dreams. For goodness sake! I even feed his obsession."

"Now, let's not get defensive Mr. Barton. If you're ready, you can tell me about that obsession."

Mr. Barton shifted his position. What else could he do but waste time talking to this stranger? He knew this was a lost cause but he still felt the need to come every week. Maybe it was a stress relief or maybe it was the only way he could get someone to listen to his frustrations about his little boy. Either way, he felt better that he was here. At least he could get something out of this little session which cost more than his last dental appointment.

"Ok" he began, feeling more inclined to talk for the remaining time he had. "Ever since he had that little 'angel' dream, he's been too intent on finding something."

"What is he trying to find?" 

The psychiatrist was also starting to shift in her seat. This time, the words that were coming out of her client's mouth were not the usual complaints. This little boy they were talking about started to spark an interest in her thoughts. She stopped doodling hearts in her paper and instead, began to draw little angels all over her pad. It was still unprofessional, but at least it was a change.

"Everything! I don't know. He tells me that he doesn't know either. He said he feels that he's missing something important. He keeps telling me or rather, demanding me to find it. How should I know what to do? I'm not psychic. I can't read into his soul."

"Ok Mr. Barton. Calm down. Tell me, in what way does this search affect his attitude?"

"If he doesn't get what he wants, he causes trouble. You should see my servants. They're too scared to even go near him." He sighed and then continued. "I think they all need to come here and see you. We're all psychologically impaired."

The psychiatrist's eyes began to sparkle. It seemed that this 'doctor' heard the coming of a sack of cash. Yes, that new beach house she always wanted would just be a few disgruntled servants away.

She was starting to go into a long, blissful daydream when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

"Of course, I wouldn't do that. If I did them I won't have enough money to pay for everything else. I think they should just continue with their own little therapy. Maybe talking amongst themselves about my son's terror is enough to calm them down."

The image of the new beach house quickly disappeared into thin air.

"Oh well." the young professional thought. "I can always find a ton of other disoriented people to come my way."

"Could you tell me again about this search." she continued.

"I've already told you about it." he answered. "Anyway, I think our time is up. I have to get back to work so I'll see you the same time next week."

"Ok. It was nice listening to you Mr. Barton." 

She handed him the bill and smiled contentedly. "Same time next week." she said as she lead him out the door.

On the other side, another client was waiting. After waving goodbye to the distressed Mr. Barton, she welcomed her new patient in.

"So how's that Christmas play going? Are you still having trouble with that little angel of yours?" she asked.


	20. Three F

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three F

"Oh! the play, the play, the play. That's all I've been worrying about these past few weeks."

The play director settled herself on the couch, still warm from Mr. Barton's session. She took the pillow in her hands and fluffed it to just the right feel. She wanted to make sure that she was going to be settled comfortably. After all, this was going to be another long session. She might as well feel comfortable while wailing on and on about her life.

"Let's talk about something else then. We could always talk about that later. So," the psychiatrist began "How has your boyfriend been doing?" Her eyes instantly sparkled with thought of long, flowing blond hair.

"I was an angel my ass." her patient said. "He's still trying to convince me that he was an angel once before. 'A majestic guardian' he says. 'Protector of the innocent' he brags. Now he says that his hands have been tainted with sin and he no longer deserves to go back to heaven. "

She scratched her head in frustration and ended up disarranging her short hair. It was bad enough that she had to face the onslaught of overprotective parents day in and day out. Now she had to deal with her bizarre boyfriend who will never let go of his little 'fantasy' as she liked to call it.

"I told him that he better take out that mask of his when we go out in public. It's just so embarrassing.What would people think if they saw you with someone in a mask? They'd think that either you were such a good soul to take care of a lunatic or" she paused and then continued. "that you were a lunatic yourself, hanging out with other lunatics."

The whole time she was talking, her psychiatrist was not listening. Instead, the supposedly highly qualified doctor was drawing heart shapes and angels all over her pad. 

During that process, she was daydreaming about a gorgeous, tall man whose long, silky blonde hair would envelope her in his love.

"Ahem." The now irritated director said. "Maybe we should talk about something else." she then suggested. "These talks about my boyfriend always seem to put you into some sort of trance."

"Oh, I'm sorry." was the answer. "Go ahead. You can talk about that play."

"Well, like I've told you, I have this little boy in the play. Such an angel, but sometimes very stubborn. He has this little apprehension with playing the angel. He said that it bothers him to play the same part over and over again. I don't understand what he means, though. He's only played the angel for two years. It's not like he's been doing it his whole life."

"Maybe he has."

"What?" the director asked. "He's only five. When would he have done the part aside from the play?" She looked back from her position and directed a questioning stare at her psychiatrist. Maybe the whole world was going crazy.

"Maybe he's just like your boyfriend - an angel in a different lifetime."

"Ok. You're starting to scare me. Are you telling me that you believe my boyfriend? Are you insane?" 

Her voice was starting to raise. Her head was aching and her veins were throbbing.

"Ok, Ms. Noin. I want you to relax. Stressing out is not good for you. That was just a little thought of mine. I'm sorry if it sounded strange, but it does make some sort of sense to me. Anyway, I'd like you to continue talking about that little boy."

For the second time that day, another little boy had caught her interest. Usually her days were filled with boring complaints, but today was different. Two little boys with some sort of personality disorder was just what she needed to wake her up. It wasn't all the time that she'd hear about these peculiar but interesting attitudes.

"Fine. He's name is Quatre. I'm not trying to make him sound like a trouble maker because he's definitely not. He's really nice. He helps out with many things. He stops fights. He offers his assistance to other people. He defends his friends. You should see him when he's attacked by bullies. He makes sure that his friends are safe and then launches a one man attack. Thank goodness he hasn't been beaten up yet."

She noticed that she was starting to relax. She thought that maybe these sessions weren't so bad after all. Although it cost her a lot of money, she found out that having someone listen to you is a very good source of relief. Another thing that she had also noticed from the sessions was that she always felt at peace when talking about the little boy. His influence was absolutely amazing even when he wasn't around.

"He's such an angel." she concluded.

"Maybe that's why he doesn't want to play the part."

The director looked back again to elicit a response for such a confusing statement.

"Everyone probably thinks he's an angel and he's getting tired of it."  
  


It was only then that she realized the truth in those words. Maybe Quatre *was* getting tired of his image. Perhaps he wanted to be treated like the rest of the children. She couldn't help herself though. Quatre just looked extremely adorable in his little angel costume. She just wanted to squeeze him until all the air was taken out of him.

"Looks like our time is up."

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted. She hadn't even noticed the time. She sat up from her positioned and thanked her doctor. This time, she was more than ready to face another day of practices. She felt more at ease.

She was handed the bill, which she quickly shoved in her pocket. There was no need to ruin her now contented mood.

Once Ms. Noin had left, the psychiatrist decided to do a little bit of contemplation herself. She was starting to really get drawn into her client's relationships with those little boys. The first one was trying to find something. She wondered what that was. He had a dream about an angel. 

"Wait a minute." she said out loud to herself. "The second kid was an angel." 

She chuckled and then continued her thoughts to herself while waiting for her next client. Hopefully that client would have another interesting kid to talk about.


	21. Three G

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three G

"I can't believe you lost my tree topper!" 

Trowa was screaming to the top of his lungs. 

"It took me years to find that perfect one."

The servants were beginning to tremble with fear. Who knew what the little boy had in store for them? The snake he had set free the day before had attacked one of the ladies in her room. Her leg was now swollen and she had to stay on top of a table all day in fear of her life. She had said that she was going to quit as soon as she was able to run out of the house with both her legs. The poor thing had started to go insane and the other servants had to restrain her several times. The situation with the boy was not getting any better.

"I had to go to that ugly part of town to have my ornaments made and now you tell me that you've lost my tree topper? Where am I supposed to find one just like that?"

Nobody was answering his question. Fear was very evident in the atmosphere. The eerie silence only seemed to fuel the boy's anger. What were they to do? It wasn't their fault.

Those that were closer to the door were attempting to flee when suddenly, Mr. Barton appeared from the other side of the room. They hoped that he would act as their savior, saving them from the child's imminent wrath.

"What is it this time Trowa?" he asked calmly.

"These idiots lost my tree topper." Trowa answered, anger still apparent in his voice.

"We could always find another one." 

As soon as Mr. Barton had said it, he began regretting it. He knew what was to come next. He just indulged the boy's obsession once again. They would have to go for another search until his son is satisfied. His son's satisfaction wasn't likely to happen of course, but it was the only way to keep him calm.

"Really?" 

The once angered face turned into one of excitement. Trowa was glad that he'd been given another opportunity to find the perfect fixtures to his tree. 

A thought crossed his mind, however. He would have to go back to the part of town he detested. 

"Those kids." he thought "They're going to start making fun of me. How did they know about my angel, anyway?"

Those musings were suddenly interrupted by his father.

"Well, Trowa. What are you waiting for? Let's head off to town."

Trowa was very much reluctant to return there, but he felt that he must. Perhaps what he was looking for was somewhere close. Maybe that's why he felt so warm the minute he had stepped out of his car into town. 

There was something about that place that mystified him. He was going to find out even if it meant facing those kids and taking their insults about how he would be damned by an angel.

Damned by an angel. He still could not comprehend the idea. In his dream his angel had said that he would protect him from harm. Why the sudden change? 

Bizarre as it was, he decided to find out the truth.

He was now resolute on finding out the answers to his many question ever since he had the enchanted dream. Those kids may be lying and his angel wasn't going to do him harm after all. Yes, it was his mission. For once, he forgot about his hunting obsession. Maybe it was for the better.

When Trowa had finally decided to face the real world, he was surprised to find himself in a car with his father right beside him. They had traveled to the other part of town without him even noticing it.

"I'm going crazy." he thought.

"Let's go Trowa. This shop right here carries some of the best tree toppers."

Trowa got out of the car, still reluctant to face anyone he'd come across. He felt that there was something strange going on, but he didn't know what it was.

As he was starting to walk to the shop, he suddenly collided with somebody else. From the weakness of the impact, he had assumed that it was someone smaller than him. 

He dismissed the idea of getting to know who the offender was and just continued to make his way to the shop. All he said was "Watch where you're going kid."

"I'm sorry." was the reply.

No matter how much he wanted to turn to that person and punish that person for getting in his way, he found that he couldn't. There was something about that sweet voice that just sounded too familiar. He felt like he had met that person in his distant past. It was conceivable that the events that had taken place after his dream had some meaning behind them. Was this boy part of the answer to the mystery?

He turned around to check the other boy he had hit only to find the owner of the sweet voice gone. He hit himself in the head and dismissed the event as one of his daydreams. He was definitely going crazy.

Meanwhile, Quatre ran back to his friends looking very much disheveled. Running away from the other boy had given him a lot more exercise than he had intended.

"What's wrong Quatre?" Duo asked.

"There was this scary boy that I bumped into. He had the weirdest hair and I got scared so I ran back here."

"Quatre. He probably wasn't going to eat you. You better start relaxing." Heero said.

"Ok."

Quatre arranged his clothes and began to walk with his friends back to the small place where they were holding practices. All the while, he was thinking about the boy he had hit. He didn't know why, but somehow, he thought that he knew the boy from somewhere before. Perhaps he had been part of his distant past. It was just all too confusing.

A few minutes later, he dismissed the idea as another one of his implausible musings and deemed himself insane. Where would one come up with such an idea anyway?

He followed his friends and decided that today, he was going to be a cooperative angel. Besides, Ms. Noin was starting to go insane herself.


	22. Three H

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Three H

Trowa entered another store, not pleased with the results of his search. During the three hours that he had been walking around town, not once did he even pay attention to the massive amounts of objects presented before him.

There were numerous designs suggested to the boy and yet, everyone's efforts were ignored with grunts, incredulous stares and distasteful comments. It looked like there was nothing that could ever please the boy who intentionally dropped the unwanted items on the floor, leaving the job of picking up the broken pieces to his servants. For all they knew, he might have found this activity a new hobby of some sorts, one that would reward him with unbridled pleasure.

He wasn't with his father this time, however, for the man that was nearing insanity was tired from the walking and the constant whining that had been going on. He therefore opted to stay in the silence of his car to relieve his mind of the onslaught of terror his son was putting the whole town through.

He was almost close to his blissful dreamland of childless fantasies when he was suddenly awakened by the voice of a terrified and breathless servant.

"Mr. Barton," the servant called out, supporting part of his body with his arms on his knees. "Trowa's gone out of control. He's at one of the stores breaking everything on the shelves. We can't stop him and the owners said that they'd call the police if he doesn't calm down."

"What?" Mr. Barton asked in surprise. "He's a mere boy. What do you mean the police? He's not causing *that* much trouble, is he?"

The servant answered by turning his eyes downward, wanting to say yes but hoping that he didn't have to.

That look, however, was enough to convince Mr. Barton to stand up from his comfortable position and head towards his obnoxious son.

Inside the store, Trowa was becoming hysterical. He was screaming to the top of his lungs as he threw different items on the floor, pleased at the variety of sounds the shattered porcelain items produced. Some shattered into the tiniest pieces, others only cracked a millimeter, while the rest remained intact and unscathed. The ones that had escaped with the least damage, however, were not as fortunate because after finishing off with the delicate ones, he proceeded to those stubborn ones and smashed them even far worse than the first. It was, indeed, soothing and entertaining for the boy that reveled in the self-caused destruction surrounding him.

At least, that was what everyone had assumed. In truth, he was actually frustrated. He was frustrated and infuriated at the thought that his search had been hopeless right from the start. Having no knowledge of what exactly he was searching for had been a very clear sign and now, he was facing reality.

His dream did not interpret into anything in particular. They were but images, fogged images of his ideals, which he didn't even confirm existed. All these ideals, he assumed, were just part of his wild imagination. They were all irrational and untrue, childish fantasies of what may have been.

His brush with the smaller boy had brought up some hints as to what he was searching for, but it created too many conflicting thoughts that proved to do more harm than good. Trowa felt that he was almost there, close to something and yet, this something remained out of his grasp.

He decided that now would be a good time to end his search. He was going to stop looking for that perfect ornament, that perfect tree topper, that perfect someone or something that had plagued his thoughts for so long.

It was the end and he didn't care if he brought down everyone with him. In fact, he felt a lot better knowing that he was destroying them in the process. That was right. Everyone had to experience hell like he had ever since his dream.

"Trowa, stop this madness this instant!" was the last thing Trowa heard his father yell before a stray item hit him on the head, rendering him unconscious.

People from all over town heard of the ongoing commotion. It was the talk of town that day although the other talk of town had not been forgotten. It was the day the Christmas play was to be held and everyone was excited to see the results of the children's month long practices. So, while the noise was building outside, the children were having their final rehearsals.

"Are you okay, Quatre?" 

"It's too hot up here!" the dangled angel complained from his position high up. He was still strung from a rope, but this time, he was positioned in front of a small window with the sun's light striking him.

"Just hold on dear. You won't have to stay there long."

"But I've been here all day!"

"We're almost done. We just need to make the final adjustments to the background, and you're part of it."

"But why do I have to be in the sun?"

"We're using natural light, honey. Unless of course, you want us to put the lights directly on you."

The rehearsal went on in the far corner of the room with the boy being ignored for the time being. So there was Quatre, basked in the sun's light, bored and feeling the sun's warm rays hit his pale skin.

Quatre sighed and grabbed for the window, looking down and out at what was going on while he was preoccupied with his job. 

Something peculiar was going on, he noticed. There was some kind of disturbance coming from the store across. Multitudes of people swarmed the place as Quatre tried to decipher the source of everyone's attention.

He spotted a large man coming out of the store, carrying what looked like a younger person. The first thing that came into view were tiny feet in fancy shoes, followed by legs covered in brown pants. Quatre desperately wanted to see who the person was although he didn't know why.

Perhaps he wanted to see the weird haired boy again because there was something nagging him about the person.

He lost his grip on the windowsill, however, and dangled back into place.

"Quatre, stay still next time and stop looking out the window. The rope looks like it's going to break apart if you keep on moving."

"Hmph!" Quatre said in response and looked at his friends who were now in their final costumes, finished with their final practices. They, in turn, looked up at their friend, the grumpily hanging ornament.

Outside, the noise had died down and the immensity of the crowd that had occupied the streets a minute ago were now disappearing. 

Trowa was starting to come back into consciousness and noticed that he was being carried back to the car across the street by one of his servants.

"Eww!" he exclaimed as he jumped down from the man's hold. "Dad, why is this gorilla putting his ugly hands on me?"

His father looked at him, exasperated.

"Son, you've caused quite a scene today and we're taking you home."

A loud and firm "No!" was the answer.

Mr. Barton was not surprised at his boy's continual act of defiance so he decided to give up for the time being.

"I'm staying right here!" Trowa proclaimed.

Although his father was not one to argue any further, Trowa stomped his foot to confirm the statement and was again relishing in his glory and power when someone yelled at him.

"That is enough!"

Trowa was surprised at the tone given to him so he immediately looked in the direction of the one that had dared reprimand him.

The servant that had done so, knowing full well what the consequences were, was shaking as he continued.

"You can't always get what you want." he explained. "Someday I hope you realize that and suffer more than we've gone through with you."

The boy didn't respond quickly, but after a moment of silence laughed as if the statement were made as a joke. 

"You're fired!" Trowa yelled after, his voice filled with venom.

The poor servant walked away in silence and everything continued on as if nothing had happened.

People were starting to ignore the argument by this time although a few weren't able to resist the temptation to glance at the representation of evil itself positioned just outside the building. The play was starting soon and they decided that it was less important to find out the results of the arguments going on within the rich disgruntled family.

A few minutes later, the play started and the only people left outside were a few petrified servants, a now indifferent father, and a headstrong boy holding his position.

The play went by smoothly, free of any problems and Ms. Noin was very proud as she held the hand of her masked boyfriend. She became ever more excited, however, when Quatre's turn came up. She looked lovingly at her dear little angel as he was lifted up, the fading sun's light surrounding him completely.

Outside, Trowa raised his arms up in the air, looked up and mocked the heavens.

"Oh why, oh why," he cried. "don't you just give me what I want? Why don't you just give me what I'm looking for?"

Inside, Quatre was very proud of himself as he smiled at the crowd and said "Gworia..."

He didn't have the chance to finish because in an instant, the sky turned gray taking on strong winds that hollered on with great immensity, causing him to wobble. Within seconds, the rope broke and Quatre was flung off the window.

Everyone gasped as they watched the child fall. Quatre screamed, closed his eyes, and prayed that his inevitable end would be quick and painless.To his surprise, he didn't land on the cold and hard concrete ground he had been expecting, but instead on some warm, soft arms.

Just when he thought that he had died and gone to heaven, just like everyone said he would, he opened his eyes slowly and came face to face with startled green eyes.

Trowa stood agape, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Was this what he had been looking for all along? Suddenly, memories came rushing back into him and he was reacquainted with those sweet distant memories. 

"My angel," he thought. "It can't possibly be this easy." 

He forced himself out of his quiet reverie and slowly pulled himself back into reality.

"Dad, I'm keeping this one!" he called out.

Quatre couldn't begin to explain how elated he was that someone broke his fall. He was shocked beyond belief, but upon hearing the remark which included him being kept like a possession, he immediately cried out in protest. There was something very familiar nudging his brain, though, as he did this.

"Hey! You can't keep me. Let me go!" 

Trowa ignored the protest and started ordering his servants.

"Make him clothes." was the first command.

"What kind?"

"The one he's wearing right now!"

"Hey, this is just supposed to be my costume!" Quatre objected.

"You'll dress up like this for me everyday, right angel?" was Trowa's retort.

"What? Wait a minute, I'm not..."

"He's too skinny!" Trowa interjected. "Feed him! Buy us some chocolate ice cream, now!"

Quatre clapped his hands, momentarily forgetting the situation he was in.

"I love chocolate!" he exclaimed.

"See, I knew my angel would see it my way." Trowa said as he realized just how conniving his plan was.

"You traitor!" Duo screamed from the building.

"Oh, and Dad, I'm keeping him in my room."

"Very well, Trowa."

"I said you can't keep me!" Quatre exclaimed, again remembering what all his protests were about.

"Let me go. Let me go. Let me go." he repeated continuously while trying to break free of the hold.

Trowa found it somewhat irritating and decided that he use his most effective method when it came to shutting girls up. He kissed Quatre square on the lips and his method was proven effective.

Quatre immediately withheld whatever else he was going to say and blushed furiously, looking away in utter embarrassment.

"That's better," Trowa said.

He turned back his attention to the servants and with a smirk, said jovially "I told you I always get what I want."

His father couldn't care any less if his son had picked up some lint on the sidewalk. All he cared was that the boy had finally found something he was satisfied with. He was tired but pleased at the way things had turned out so he decided that going back home would be the best option.

"Let's go, Trowa," he said. "Put him in the car."

This time, Trowa complied without another word. He headed towards the parked car silently, the smirk still on his face as he carried his angel.

He was so lost in the image that he didn't even hear the protests coming from the people in the building, although he did hear one familiar voice.

"Hey let our friend go!" Duo yelled while his two other friends stood beside him, silently promising pain if their friend was harmed in any way. Trowa looked up in return and stuck his tongue out.

"He's mine now," he said and continued walking. 

Quatre remained silent, unable to utter a word, still stunned and blushing from the kiss he received.

Finally, Trowa reached the vehicle and as he deposited his long lost possession into the car, he bent down and gave the flushed boy another gentle kiss.

Quatre looked up into the mysterious orbs and watched as they turned from those with malicious intentions into those with loving memories of long ago.

Trowa smiled at him, winked and said "Didn't I tell you I'd find you?"


	23. Four A

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Four A

Trowa stumbled past the bushes and almost tripped over a large root. He pushed his way alongside draping vines, climbed up a short tree and crawled under a lodged piece of wood. He tiptoed across a ledge, jumped high and landed directly on the clearing next to a clear puddle.

"Perfect as always." he said as he looked at his reflection in the water. He was now seventeen, tall and charming, still dressed in fine clothes and still as stubborn as he was when he was younger.

He straightened out his clothes, smoothed his hair out and sprayed his mouth with some mint flavored freshener and continued on a narrow pathway leading out into a street not far.

Before reaching his intended location, he checked his watch, counted to ten then stepped out into the street saying "Good afternoon, Angel. Would you like to go out with me today?"

Duo, still not used to Trowa's afternoon appearances, jumped back into Heero, hit Wufei and almost dropped the soda can he was holding onto Quatre's shirt.

Trowa grabbed the can with quick reflexes, emptied its contents on the ground and threw it into the trash behind. All three steps were done swiftly without taking his eyes off of Quatre.

"So what'll it be, Angel?" Trowa asked while ignoring the three friends who looked like they were ready to murder him with their looks of disapproval.

Quatre looked down and sighed.

Before Trowa could open his mouth again, however, Wufei stood in front of Quatre, effectively blocking the view.

"Quatre," Wufei said. "Why don't you show Mr. Barton here that paper you have?"

Quatre complied and fished out a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Trowa without even raising his head to look at the expectant boy. 

"A love letter? For me?" Trowa asked, enthusiasm evident in his manner of speaking. He looked through Wufei and right into the boy on the other side as if the obstruction weren't there.

Not receiving a reply, he quickly unfolded the paper and read its contents. After reading it thoroughly though, he decided that a second run would be necessary to confirm the simple message. The message itself held a collection of ordinary words which when stood alone held a lot less significance, but when put together, he realized, was strong enough to separate him from the one person he respected. This time, he had more of a concentrated look on his face as he read the contents again and again, making sure that he didn't miss a word of it.

"A restraining order?" he asked in a hushed tone, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "Why?" He couldn't continue as his face now held that of disappointment and anger slowly seeping out of his system.

Of course, he could only hold his temper for so long as he voiced out the only thing that he could say in line with the surprise of the news.

"My father will hear about this," he said through clenched teeth. Although he was still considered a brat, he was now more restrained in his actions, watching his behavior especially when he was around Quatre. There was just something about the boy that urged his conscience to think twice before indulging in his mischievous and oftentimes malicious ideas.

"What's your father gonna do?" Duo asked. "You've kidnapped him more times than I could count and I don't think that the judge would even consider listening to your lame excuses."

"But he's supposed to be my tutor." Trowa rationalized. "Aha! So how is he going to tutor me if I can't even go near him?"

"You can find another tutor."

"He was assigned to work with me."

"You could always be assigned another person."

"I don't function well without him."

"It's not like he's part of your internal organs. Deal with it."

"I could always demand that he be the one to teach me."

"It doesn't matter as long as you stay three hundred feet away from him."

"How am I going to do that if I need to speak with him?"

"Find a phone three hundred feet away."

"That won't be good enough for me. What makes you think that this piece of paper is going to stop me?"

"Because I know so."

"That's what you think, Mary."

Duo was flabbergasted at the reminder of one of his most humiliating experiences. He was furious at the boy for bringing up the hated topic and immediately went for Trowa's cheek with his fist. A quick yank from Heero, however, stopped him from the intended assault. 

"I only played that part once and *that*," he said "doesn't make me any less of a man." 

He stood indignantly without making a move to attack, but as soon as Heero let go, he lunged for Trowa again, the exposed throat a new target.

"Leave him." 

This time Heero opted to speak with a commanding tone, deciding that it was better than holding back his friend who was too stubborn to give up. 

"He'll get what he deserves." 

Duo fell silent and stopped his attack knowing that Heero's words were enough to sting the other boy's ego more than he let out. 

By this time, Trowa had run out of enough witty and derogatory remarks to rebuke any further comments so he reached into his pant pocket to retrieve his portable phone.

He dialed a number, almost damaging the buttons and suppressed a yell as spoke into the receiver.

"Pick me up. You know where."

He ended the call, pushed another button and shoved the phone back in his pants.

Duo took this chance to chide away at the vulnerable boy.

"Yeah. It's about time you went back to your daddy!" he mocked. "And remember, three hundred feet...three hundred feet."

Trowa tried his best to ignore him lest he couldn't control himself and inflict damage on one of Quatre's closet friends. He tried to clam his nerves as he stared far off into the road, taking on a proud stance despite his current disposition. 

Silent and standing unnoticed in the back of his protective friends, Quatre sighed again and gave the defeated boy an apologetic look although the other didn't notice. He'd wanted to stop the arguments earlier in fear of someone getting hurt or at least join in on the conversation, but he obviously wasn't given the chance considering the intensity of the battle that was presented before him. He decided that this fight between Trowa and his friends was going far more than was necessary and he had to stop it.

He made a move to go near Trowa and console the fallen boy, but he was pulled back into place and efficiently held back by his friends.

Trowa paid no attention to what was going on and kept calm. It was not until that one statement, however, that Trowa reacted vehemently.

"Quatre," he heard the voice say. "It would really do you a lot of good to stay away from him...permanently."

Trowa would've been able to handle all other remarks, but the last words spilled forth hurt him worse than all other insults on his character would have inflicted. He decided that it was unjust to condemn him to his meaningless existence and deny him of the one thing he had been searching for so long. 

He shoved the three aside, this time with barely controlled rage. His strength seemed to share the passion of his anger as he sent his opponents down on the hard ground. He was embarrassed at such a childish display but found himself satisfied with the act. At least he was able to perform the deed his little demons were coercing him to do.

He smirked, enjoying his handiwork then transformed his face so that he looked like the oppressed victim rather than the guilty party. When he was satisfied with the face he was putting on, he looked back at Quatre and gently laid a hand on the other's shoulder.

"Don't worry, Angel." he whispered. "They can't keep me away from you for long."

Quatre raised his head, momentarily forgetting about his fallen comrades and smiled at Trowa. 

"I'll call." Trowa mouthed, making sure that none of the other boys tangled on the ground noticed.

"Ok." Quatre whispered in return.

Moments later, Trowa's ride came by and the glowing boy left just as confidently as he entered.


	24. Four B

** **

**I Dreamed of Angels******

**Part Four B**

** **

** **

Quatre tripped over a rock and fell face first on the muddy ground beneath him. He picked himself up only to slip back into the same position. With one last try, he steadied his hands and hoisted himself up with the mud still clinging to his clothes. He continued walking despite his disposition and trudged along insect infested pathways, every once in a while getting hit on the head by protruding branches. He scraped his arm on some thorny bushes, cursed himself for not watching where he was going and brushed his ankles on some poison ivy. After an hour and a half of walking around in circles, he spotted a clearing not far.

Finally reaching his destination, he checked his watch and flopped down on a picnic blanket, an angry glare directed at the figure that lay carelessly on the ground.

"So what did you call me for?" he asked.

"Oh nothing." the figure said while reaching for a sandwich with one hand and grabbing a handful of potato chips with the other. "Can't we just hang out? You know, eat and talk and..."

"Duo, that's probably not what he had in mind."

Heero, who appeared from behind the rich shrubbery, looked at Quatre's muddy appearance and retrieved a towel from one of the bags off to the side. He flung the clean towel towards Quatre and regarded him with a disapproving look.

"Quatre," he said. "You're getting too clumsy."

"No, I'm not!" he protested while wiping himself off. The incessant wiping did nothing but worsen his condition and soil the towel as well.

"It's just that the meeting places you choose happen to be in the middle of nowhere."

"Exactly where we want you. As far away from that brat as possible."

Quatre whirled around and looked up to the figure that was perched on the tree.

"You mean Trowa? " Quatre asked, his eyes fixated on the sturdy branch that held the proud and commanding form of Wufei.

"Whatever his name is. I agree with Heero. You better be careful, especially when we're not around."

Quatre laughed heartily and finally gave up on cleaning himself. At least he was able to get the mud off his face.

"Oh, I get it." he said between laughs. "This is some sort of friendly intervention. You're trying to warn me about Trowa, the usual 'stay away from him' lecture."

Duo sat up from his position and decided to join in.

"You're laughing now but wait 'till a helicopter appears out of nowhere and snatches you up. He's really tricky, you know. Even with that restraining order, he's still gonna come after you."

"That's right." Heero interjected. "He's also a bad influence on you. Youbetter stay away from him if you don't want to get hurt."

"Yes mom." Quatre answered, fighting the urge to laugh off his friends' concern.

"We're serious Quatre," Wufei spoke up again. "Be careful about his dangerous obsession or you will both regret having played out those roles. That false fantasy will only prove to be your downfall."

Those were the last words Quatre remembered as he made his way back to the orphanage, his home for as long as he could remember. 

He entered a building and walked up a narrow stairway. He greeted several children who clung to him like leeches, told Ms. Noin that he was going to bed, explained why he was filthy and finally step foot in his cozy room. He opened the dresser, choosing a fresh set of clothes and decided that he'd best take a shower before going to bed.

On his way to the bathroom, the phone rang and it was only then that he remembered that Trowa was going to call that night. He ran for the phone and hoped that Ms. Noin wouldn't answer it from the other line.

"Hello." he said.

"Hello, Angel. Miss me? I knew you would! Anyway, I told my dad about our little problem and told him to call up some lawyers. Those pitiful incompetents told me that it'll be at least a week before they can fix things up. I can't believe it! So, until then, I'll just call you on the phone every night like I'm doing now or maybe I'll sneak into you place and..."

"Trowa." Quatre cut in. "I need to take a quick shower. I'll call you back in a few minutes, ok?"

"Ok, Angel. I'll be waiting."

"Oh, and Trowa..."

"Yes, Angel?"

"The name's Quatre, not Angel."

Quatre shut the phone and hurried off into the bathroom, still thinking about what Wufei said about dangerous obsessions.

The minutes passed by painfully slow as Trowa sat with his eyes glued to the phone. He'd already eaten dinner, pestered the servants, given his father another complimentary migraine and yet, the phone hadn't rang.

"How long are showers supposed to take?" he asked nobody in particular.

When his patience finally reached its limit, he picked up the phone and dialed Quatre's number.

"Hello." said the person on the other line.

"Good evening ma'am," he said in return, hoping that his voice wouldn't be recognized. "Is Quatre there by any chance?"

"I'm sorry young man but he went to bed a few minutes ago. Who may I ask is calling?"

"Umm, no you may not." 

Trowa started to get nervous.

"Hold on." Ms. Noin said from the other line, suspicion evident in her voice. "I know you. Trowa? Trowa Barton? Why you little sneak! You stay away from Quatre, you hear me? If I find you anywhere near him I'll make sure the cops haul your ass..."

Trowa immediately closed the phone and flinched. He didn't know that Ms. Noin's voice could be that loud and intimidating.

"Phew." he said while wiping off the sweat that was forming on his forehead. "Never catch that woman in a foul mood!"

Trowa was surprised to hear laughter as the response. Quatre was standing by the door and hidden by the shadows. He was trying to control himself.

"...and they say nobody can scare off Trowa Barton."

Trowa smirked at the laughing boy and offered him a chair.

"I thought sweet 'lil Quatre was sleeping. So, what brings you here, Angel?"

Instead of answering, Quatre chose instead to lay down on the soft bed with his chin on his palms, his face propped up by his elbows. Trowa took a seat on the chair and observed him.

"Your father was bribing me again." Quatre finally said while cuddling the soft mattress and blankets, something he wasn't accustomed to.

"How much did he offer this time?"

"Three times as much as the last offer."

"...and you answered?"

"No, of course. He can't buy me off! Why's he trying to convince me to live here anyway?"

"Ah." Trowa said, rubbing his hands together and then crossed his arms.

"Dear old papa." he said. "He's just trying to give me what I want."

In the room downstairs, Mr. Barton was seated on a sofa, being accompanied by the maid, the laundry woman, and the chauffer who were also comfortably seated on different chairs.

"That boy will kill me one of these days!" Mr. Barton exclaimed while massaging his throbbing head.

"Calm down sir." the laundry woman said. "Remember, he's still young. He'll grow out of it."

"That's what you've been saying for the last ten years and that's what I've been holding on to for so long!" he answered. "I'm telling you, that boy was sent to me as some sort of punishment." He sighed and slumped down on the chair. A few minutes of silence followed the remark.

"You know what?" he finally said again after thinking too deeply. "I have some suspicion that he's the devil himself." he added in a whisper.

Nobody refuted the statement as all heads present nodded. The conversation went on until the late hours of the night with numerous servants coming in one by one, seating themselves on the plush carpet Mr. Barton now occupied. He was in his pajamas with a blanket in one hand.

They drank hot chocolate, chewed on some brownies the chef had prepared for the occasion and gossiped about the boy upstairs who would surely cause them greater misery if they were ever caught. This was their only form of therapy and it definitely cost a lot less than visiting a psychiatrist.

Suddenly, the walls vibrated as the sounds of manic laughter filled the house. This time, however, it was accompanied by a second voice that was melodious and sweet. For some strange reason, the contrast proved harmonic and complementary. 


	25. Four C

** **

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Four C

One week later found Mr. Barton before the office door of Ms. Noin. Looking ready for battles despite the weary look on his face, he straightened out his suit, adjusted his tie and prepared for the oncoming fight for the boy named Quatre.

Mr. Barton found it absurd and absolutely shameful that he was so easily manipulated by his son. He had told himself so many times before that he'd end his boy's reign over him once and for all but all previous attempt have been proven fruitless. Trowa always seemed to have some greater power over him.

He sighed and looked at the door in front of him.

"The evil boy's puppet." he murmured as he knocked on the door. 

When he was given permission to enter, he turned the doorknob and sent his greeting to the person seated behind the desk.

"Good Morning, Ms. Noin," he said. "I believe we have some business to discuss."

Ms. Noin stood up from her chair, taking notice of one of her most frequent visitors, the one she would consider her adversary.

"Good Morning to you as well, Mr. Barton."

She shook his hand and regarded his companions.

"...and associates." she added.

"So we have some business to discuss, do we? I'm sorry to disappoint you Mr. Barton but I think that this matter should be handled in court. If you'll excuse me, I still have hopeful parents to attend to."

She crossed the room and opened the door, ushering her recent visitors out.

"Id rather we discuss this now," Mr. Barton quickly interrupted before his lawyers stepped out of the door into the hallway. 

"If you'd prefer that we do this in court with the greedy judges just itching for what I have to offer them then maybe we should do as you suggested."

"Not all people can be bought, Mr. Barton." Ms. Noin said while her hand still held on to the opened door, wanting to land a good punch on the wealthy man's face.

"Oh?" the confident Mr. Barton asked. "Then how would you explain the fifty couples over the ten year period that have mysteriously refused to adopt Quatre Winner?"

"He doesn't need greedy parent. He will always have us."

"Would you please define for me the word 'us'. I truly find it hard to comprehend that word when used in the context of the orphanage. Sure, he will have you as long as you are the director of this establishment and those little children wandering around this building will always be his so-called 'family' as long as they aren't taken away by their adoptive parents. Who will he have after all of you have gone? I have reason to believe that you do not understand the complications of his situation."

"Who are you to judge this place, Mr. Barton? Are you telling me that we should hand him over to you?"

"How long do you think he'll be this way, kind and understanding? Your reluctance has done nothing but destroy his self-confidence. How do you think a child would feel when rejected by dozens of couples and thrown back to the one place that gave him no identity? Perhaps what you have been doing to protect him has done him more harm than good."

"Perhaps. But let me inform you, Mr. Barton, that no matter how many times you've bribed him into living with you and your tyrant of a son, not once did he accept or even consider your glorious offers. You see, Mr. Barton, he's found a place in his life with us that is nothing you or your son could offer him."

"However, don't forget, Ms. Noin, that my son holds a great deal of power over your boy. Why else would the obedient and angelic Quatre Winner sneak into my estate in the middle of the night to visit my boy?"

Ms. Noin fell silent. She didn't think that Quatre would actually disobey her. Never had the boy done anything to anger her, but now it seemed like he was slowly flittering away, slowly being sucked into the influences of Trowa Barton.

She was dumbstruck as she kept her hand on the open door.

"...and do remind me Ms. Noin," he added while the silent woman fought the urge to give the man the satisfaction of her defeat. "...isn't it true that you yourself along with his good friends have been doing jut what you've been accusing my boy of doing? Haven't you been claiming his as your own, branding him as the sweet, angel Quatre even if he refuses to be seen as such? At least, Ms. Noin," he said as he adjusted his cuffs. "...my son treasures him as his own without parading him around like some precious idol."

With a now triumphant look on his face, Mr. Barton signaled for his lawyers to leave some paper work on the table and exit the room. When all twelve had left, he proceeded to the door and just when his feet touched the outside, Ms. Noin said "Give my regards to your master," and banged the door shut.

Mr. Barton fought the urge to weaken his triumphant stance in front of his lawyers. Ms. Noin always had a way of saying the least amount of words that struck him the most. Maybe he wasn't triumphant after all.

Now it was time to go back to the hell he called home and start arranging the money to be spent on luring in the all-too-willing judges.

Ms. Noin, on the other hand, furious at her recent defeat, kicked the wastebasket on the side of the desk, spilling its contents all over the floor. 

She remembered every word of the discussion and refused to believe that Quatre had disobeyed her and refused to believe the truth Mr. Barton had so eloquently put out before her.

"Damn those rich people!" she said as she plopped down on her chair.

"I wouldn't dare brand Quatre based on any angel images. Now, where's angel boy? He better be in his room like he said he would."

Unknown to her, Quatre was actually miles away from his room, currently sitting on a park bench with Trowa sitting across from him.

Their books were scattered all over the table with mounds of paper scattered here and there. Off to the side was a bag filled with chips, sandwiches and packed juice.

Trowa huffed as he chewed on his sandwich. He scribbled down some numbers on a paper and smiled when he got the answer he was looking for.

"The answer of 'h of x' is 'x squared plus nine,'" he proclaimed with much enthusiasm.

Quatre shook his head and got a blank sheet of paper, scribbling down his own numbers and handed the paper to Trowa.

"That's how you do it." he said and explained the process.

"The derivative of that function is the derivative of the first times the second plus the derivative of the second times the first. Didn't you say that you had it all down the other week?"

"Well," Trowa said, embarrassed "I got bored so I just said I did even if I didn't."

Trowa looked down in shame. This did nothing but cause Quatre to laugh uncontrollably with Trowa's questioning gaze directed at him.

"Since when have *you* been shy, Trowa?" he asked.

Trowa didn't answer but joined in the laughter, realizing his pathetic display. 

After composing himself, Trowa looked over to his companion and said "You're so adorable when you laugh, Angel."

"It's Quatre."


	26. Four D

# 

# I Dreamed of Angels

## Part Four D

Trowa straightened out his uniform and ran his fingers through his hair before gathering his things and leaning back in the comfortable seat of his father's car. It was another Monday and although most students would loathe the beginning of another week, Trowa usually looked forward to them. Where else would he be able to meet with Quatre under normal circumstances?

"You know what time to pick me up. Don't be late." he warned the chauffeur as he exited the car.

Before he closed the door, he stuck his head back in and decided that he felt good enough to give the trembling man a little warning.

"Oh, by the way," he said "I think I left my snake in here last night and he's probably hungry by now. So, if you see him," He paused and retrieved a box from inside his bag. "Give him this."

He tossed the contents of the box and closed the car door.

With a satisfied smirk, he made his way to the entrance of the school and ignored the crowd of people that began to gather around the vehicle he had just vacated.

"I hope my baby enjoys his breakfast." he said as the front doors of the building swung shut.

Outside, sounds of excitement, fear, and curiosity filled the air. The crowd of people that gathered around the car watched curiously as a large snake devoured a helpless and terrified mouse while the equally terrified chauffeur tried to open the stubborn car door. His screams did nothing but cause the density of the crowd to thicken. Now, he was nothing more than part of an interesting spectacle.

Meanwhile, Trowa was busy decoding the combination to his locker. Two more turns gave him access to the contents of the inside. He gathered his books and placed them inside his bag and noticed that there was a note addressed to him, almost unnoticeable, in the far corner. It looked like it was slipped in through one of the slots. He opened it and read the message within.

"Lunch time by the gymnasium." it said.

Trowa refolded the note and placed it inside his bag then closed the locker door, intent on getting to class early.

Oblivious to him was the crowd of admirers waiting for him to pass by. When he did, suppressed giggles could be heard filling the already rambunctious hall with even more loud noise.

"Hi, Trowa" some of the more reserved ones greeted while a more aggressive one came forward.

"So, Trowa," she said "I hear you've got this problem with Quatre. So, umm, change of subject. Would you like me to help you with your math?"

Trowa turned to the owner of the voice and kept his face blank, trying to convey the fact that she was boring him.

"I already have a tutor." was his stale and toneless answer.

"What? But I though you can't go near Quatre?"

She went on and on, causing Trowa's face to transform from one of boredom to that of nuisance. He felt the urge to move on but decided that he might as well have some fun.

'Kiss the girl' was no longer an option since it had been proven to make the ladies wail in delight rather than shut up. It was a shame that those childhood techniques were no longer useful.

"Then I'll go for the second alternative." he said.

"What did you say, Trowa?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering what that red spot on your face was."

"Excuse me."

She blushed and almost fainted as she rushed to the ladies' restroom with friends in tow.

"I guess I've still got it." Trowa said and adjusted his clothes again, continuing on to his first class.

Quatre would surely be inside since he was never late for class. Trowa smiled at the thought of Quatre. For the hundredth time that day, he thanked his lucky stars that his father was wealthy enough to pay for Quatre's education as well.

Living in a small town with only one school was hard for those without the resources to pay for such a renowned institution. Trowa always thought it strange that the townspeople never decided to build a more affordable if not free means of education. True, it was strange but Trowa always presumed that it was due to fate.

He came just in time because there was still an empty seat next to Quatre. Even better was the realization that the boy's three other friends were in different classes. It really paid off to be rich. Those school officials could so easily be manipulated.

Trowa put his bag down beside his chosen seat and was about to greet Quatre when the teacher called the boy up front.

After a short discussion with the teacher, Quatre sighed and proceeded to his seat to gather his belongings. It hadn't been a good day for him so far. Somehow, he knew that it would get worse as the day wore on. Having faced the wrath of the very disappointed Ms. Noin on an early Monday morning was a bad enough sign.

Before he walked through the door, however, someone took a hold of his hand.

"Where are you going?" Trowa asked.

"He's going to be placed in a different room, Mr. Barton. You are not to come anywhere near him, understand? You may leave the room now, Mr. Winner."

Trowa was furious at the turn of events but chose not to display his dismay and inner rage while Quatre was around. He deemed it improper but deliciously satisfying. It was tempting but against Quatre's wishes. So, he crossed his arms instead and fought the inclination to go on a heated debate with the teacher. Although he was distracted, his eyes never left the retreating figure.

"I'm sorry." Quatre whispered as he passed by him.

Trowa could only stare as they again took his angel away from him.

The rest of the day followed like so with Quatre being kicked out of every class to be put somewhere else, preferably as far away from Trowa as possible. It was neither just nor amusing and it did nothing but infuriate Trowa further.

The bell rang again as the very angry boy picked up his bag and headed out the door. His dangerous expression changed briefly as he saw Quatre pass by. He couldn't do anything but feel pity. Quatre was obviously given quite the workout, running around all over the school with one school official literally interpreting the three hundred feet distance and actually using a metric tape to measure their separation. Everyone was just making such a big deal about the situation.

This time, Trowa cursed his wealth for Quatre's condition. Since everyone paid their respects to the Barton family, they thought it proper to move Quatre around instead of him. His convenience was always their concern. 

Unknown to them, this convenience did not appease him. All Trowa wanted at that moment was to have Quatre sit in place while they dragged him around instead. After all, the restraining order was meant to keep him away from Quatre and not the other way around. 

He continued to watch in sorrow as the one he wanted to spend the day with climbed another flight of stairs, occasionally stopping to catch his breath.

"They're going to pay for doing that to my angel." Trowa said as devious, unholy schemes entered his head.

While Trowa was busy planning his revenge, Quatre was frowning at the half-filled paper in front of him. Having been late for every single class, he had to skip lunch to finish an essay he was supposed to complete.

"So much for that note." he murmured.

"Did you say anything, Quatre?"

"No, ma'am."

"Ok, you have ten minutes to finish that."

He nodded and scribbled down a few more words with his stomach rumbling and growling in protest. It pleaded with him for that chocolate ice cream he longed for but could not produce. It was unfortunate that the teacher ignored his loud but unvoiced demands and continued to read the papers on her desk. He was sure that the words 'chocolate ice cream' would appear somewhere around his scholarly work.

He was so frustrated when he walked back home. It was certainly not one of his finer days. Not only was he hauled from place to place and punished for sneaking out at night, he was also deprived of the one person he wanted to spend his day with.

He plopped down on his bed, his sore body protesting the contact and noticed an icebox by his window. It didn't look like it was anything special. The faint pink exterior did nothing to enhance its appearance and yet it was very odd and enticing.

He forced his body to move accordingly, walked to the object and sat beside it with his back to the wall.

He opened the box and was surprised to find that the simplicity of the exterior served only to enhance the elegance of the interior.

Within the box were a few objects of fine taste. In it was a golden spoon with a ribbon tied around it, a crystal goblet of exquisite craftsmanship, a simple tape recorder, a note written on fancy, gold trimmed paper and his favorite - chocolate ice cream.

His stomach couldn't wait any further as he took the spoon and used it to place some of the ice cream on the goblet and filled his mouth with the soft, creamy taste of the finest chocolate ice cream he had ever tasted.

After indulging in a few spoonfuls, he picked up the almost forgotten note.

"Listen to the tape recorder." it said.

Quatre complied and pressed the play button.

"Hi Angel." said the familiar voice of Trowa.

"It's Quatre." he responded as he continued to let the cold treat glide around his tongue.

"Like my gift? I knew you would! Anyway, since I haven't been with you all day, I decided to tell you everything that happened instead. You'll be glad to find out that there are two less faculty members in our school. Hmph! Those idiots should never anger Trowa Barton lest they want to dig their own graves."

The voice continued on and on as Quatre ate halfway though his favorite treat. He would occasionally laugh and answer back despite being aware of the fact that he was practically talking to the machine. Trowa always found the most peculiar ways to amuse him even at the worst times. Quatre realized that although Trowa was a troublemaker, he sure had a kind heart. No one else had thought of his well being that day. 

Then, as Trowa's narration came to an end, his voice suddenly shifted to a more serious tone, one that spoke of weariness and longing.

"Happy Valentines Day, Angel." he said. "I miss you."

"I miss you too." Quatre answered back as the play button popped up, signaling the end of the tape.


	27. Four E

Notes: Part 4E, the de-lemonized version. I've taken out the lemon portion of this fic but you can find the lemon version in my site.

**I Dreamed of Angels**

**[Part Four E]**

Mr. Barton enjoyed his strong cup of coffee while he read the day's news. It was another glorious Saturday and he was glad that he'd be able to spend another relaxing day at home, or so he thought.  
  
Before he could indulge himself in another one of those false daydreams, he heard wicked laughter coming from somewhere around the house.  
  
"Kill me now," he said, recognizing his son's voice. The boy was probably doing some unknown mischief on an early Saturday morning.  
  
"Why? Oh, why?" he asked no one in particular and was interrupted from his wails and cries by the sound of the doorbell that jolted him right out of it.  
  
He decided against disturbing the servants who had to deal with his son's especially bad mood that week. It became apparent to him that Trowa Barton alone was dangerous enough, but Trowa Barton without his angel was even more demonic than he could ever dream of. He cringed at the thought of Trowa's ungodly tantrums and proceeded to open the door.  
  
"My salvation," was the first thing that came out of his mouth when he looked at the figure by the front door.  
  
Quatre crinkled his face in question but then smiled at the elated Mr. Barton.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Barton," he said. "Is Trowa home?"  
  
Mr. Barton nodded and said "You will save us from him, won't you?"  
  
"Uh, ok?"  
  
Quatre was uncertain of what that meant but decided to play along.  
  
Mr. Barton hugged him with all the strength he had, his delight showing in his actions.  
  
"Very well, my son. Go forth. Find him and deliver us from his inevitable wrath," the weary man said and pushed him forward.  
  
Quatre sighed and took out his shoes to go and find the object of everyone's distress.  
  
"Trowa's driving them nuts," he said and shook his head in disbelief.  
  
He didn't have to go very far because he found Trowa running around the house, barefoot and still in his pajamas while chuckling evilly.  
  
Quatre followed him as he ran suspiciously into the servant's bathroom.  
  
"What are you doing?" Quatre asked the busy figure who looked like he was performing a chemistry experiment.  
  
Trowa whirled around and fell on his behind, both shocked and delighted to see the other once again.  
  
"Shhh..." he warned while holding his index finger up to his lips.  
  
"What're those?" Quatre persisted on asking and pointed to the objects that lay on the floor.  
  
Trowa grabbed them and denied their existence.  
  
"Nothing," he said.  
  
Quatre looked skeptical and decided that he was curious enough to pry into Trowa's activities.  
  
"What're you hiding?" he asked again.  
  
Trowa looked left and right and when he was satisfied, he showed Quatre the items.  
  
"What're you doing with those?"  
  
Trowa tried to silence Quatre but he was never one to refuse the other's questions.  
  
"Well," he said. "Promise me you won't tell anyone."  
  
When Quatre nodded, he looked around again then continued.  
  
"I found out we were having spaghetti for lunch so I put some of this," he held out what looked suspiciously like lubricant. "In here," and held out the toothpaste.  
  
"Umm, I don't get it."   
  
"You see, Angel."  
  
"It's Quatre."  
  
"Angel, I mixed some of this slippery stuff with the toothpaste. So, when they eat the spaghetti, everything will come right out. They'll be slurping until their jaws hurt."  
  
"Trowa, that is one of the sickest things I have ever heard."  
  
"Why, thank you."  
  
He smiled and looked absolutely proud of himself.  
  
"That wasn't meant as a compliment."  
  
"From you it does."  
  
Before Quatre could protest or begin to lecture him on his bad behavior, Trowa grabbed his wrist and ran back to the upstairs, not letting go. They passed by the bewildered Mr. Barton who continued to wail in agony.  
  
"Please don't let him corrupt our only hope," he pleaded with some unknown being while looking up and raising his hands high.  
  
Inside his room, Trowa tried to catch his breath, inhaled deeply and lay down on his bed.  
  
"Phew!" he said while wiping the sweat from his brows.  
  
"That was close. Next time, Angel,"  
  
"It's Quatre."  
  
"Ok, ...Angel, don't talk too loud and don't scare me like that. They could've woken up and you could've foiled my plans."  
  
He paused to breathe again then continued.  
  
"Did Ms. Noin allow you to come here?"  
  
"Not exactly."  
  
"Meaning?"  
  
"I said I was going to a friend's house. I didn't say who."  
  
"That easy?"  
  
"Nope. I had to loose Heero, Duo, and Wufei."  
  
A smile crept up Trowa's face.  
  
"So I'm not the only sneaky one around here," he said.  
  
Quatre just shrugged and pulled out one of the chairs from the table. He noticed for the first time that the table was of excellent handmade craftsmanship. The complicated designs on the side of the table were carved and the angels that adorned it seemed to lift the heavy looking object from the ground.  
  
On the table was a book, which Quatre picked up.  
  
"Of Angels and Other Phenomenon" was its title.  
  
Quatre looked at Trowa who still lay on the bed, his eyes directed at the intricate designs of the ceiling. It was then that Quatre decided to break the silence.  
  
"Wufei told me that I have to be careful of your dangerous obsession."  
  
"...and which one would that be?" Trowa asked while still regarding his ceiling.  
  
When he heard nothing from Quatre, he sat up and came face to face with the other's pained expression.  
  
"Am I nothing more that an angel obsession?" Quatre asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
Quatre didn't say anything but instead pointed to the table, the lamp, and the book. Several more objects came into view before he finally pointed up to the ceiling. Trowa followed his finger and ended up looking back up at his regal and grandiose ceiling. It was of painted angels in the clouds, looking down at him and as if hovering around him to accommodate his illusions and inherent fantasies.  
  
"I..."  
  
Trowa looked down at his hands and began to play with his fingers. He sighed and realized that he might as well reveal one of his most treasured secrets.  
  
"I've always dreamed of angels." he said while continuing to twist his fingers, his movements both uneasy and clumsy.  
  
Quatre watched him in silence.  
  
"I don't know why exactly. It's just something that happens. I know it must mean something, otherwise, I'd be crazy. I guess I always thought you were the answer to my questions because when I asked for them, you fell right into my arms."  
  
The room fell silent again before Quatre decided to continue.  
  
"Then am I just the answer to that question and you just decided that having me by you will sedate your inadequate unreality."  
  
"No wait!" Trowa said almost frantically.  
  
"This has nothing to do with you and yet everything to do with you."  
  
"That was a riddle I suppose."  
  
Trowa looked up and met Quatre's eyes and Quatre couldn't help but sit back at the intensity of the emotions behind his gaze.  
  
At that instant, so many memories of two little boys in the middle of the street began to engulf his confused mind. He saw wings, he saw candy, he saw a clown that was stubbornly attached to him. He saw sorrow, he saw rejection, he saw delight at the fulfillment of a promise. He saw a glowing feather, he saw a tight rope, he saw himself with real wings delivering a gentle kiss to and old man, withered and aged but still representing the one he loved, the one he always longed to be with.  
  
He tried to calm his nerves that threatened to explode with realizations and glimpses of a slowly forming puzzle, so beautiful, so true that it attacked his entire being.  
  
He held on tight to the table, clutching his head with one hand. Trowa was by his side in an instant, horrified and concerned. He kept on asking Quatre questions, rubbing his back as some sort of relief and became even more terrified when the other did not respond.  
  
For a few minutes, they stayed that way until Quatre came out of the intense assault of recollections and calmed down.  
  
By this time, Trowa was kneeling in front of him, puzzled and utterly helpless. Quatre looked at him, stood up and reached out to help Trowa stand as well.  
  
Trowa stood, confused and afraid but Quatre encircled his arms over him. It felt familiar and comforting as if Quatre had grown wide spanning wings that enveloped both of them, shielding them against the world that refused their bond.  
  
He could not decipher its meaning but chose to wrap his arms around the other in response. Moments later, Quatre pulled back and delivered, unlike before, a searing, deep kiss that caused his eyes to widen. It was obviously something he wasn't expecting.  
  
At first, he couldn't understand the sudden change but nevertheless, he let his lips move on its own accord and kissed back. He felt himself weaken, his senses giving in.  
  
He then broke the kiss and moved around Quatre. This time, it was Quatre who was confused. Trowa put his arms around him and placed his head on the tense shoulders.  
  
"Angels are not my obsession," he whispered, his breath tickling Quatre's neck. "I just dream of them."  
  
He began kissing Quatre's neck, tasting every bit of it.  
  
"But *you* are my obsession."  
  
Quatre understood then, closed his eyes and put his head back onto Trowa's shoulders. No more was to be said after that.  
  
Trowa continued his ministrations while lifting Quatre's shirt up to expose the slowly heating skin. He kissed down from his neck to his back, enjoying the warm skin that connected with his sensitive lips. When he reached the space between the shoulder blades, he stopped and put his head in between as he slowly closed his eyes.  
  
He thought it odd but he was sure that he felt wings sprouting out of the narrow back, brushing against his cheek, the soft feathers all too familiar but still as glorious and mystical.  
  
When he opened his eyes again, he saw no wings. Instead, he saw a soft silhouette of white as if the two feathery expansions were ghosts hovering around Quatre's back. They seemed so large that they expanded the whole room, causing the entire area to seem like heaven itself with his painted angels rejoicing.

"...love you Angel," Trowa said, heavy-eyed.  
  
Quatre decided that he was too relaxed to correct him and leaned back on him instead.  
  
It was a very sated and comforting moment but it died all too soon.  
  
"Trowa, it's lunch time!" Mr. Barton suddenly called.  
  
Trowa groaned and opened a box to the far corner of the room.  
  
"Hey baby, you can have my lunch," he said and smiled sleepily as he watched his snake slither out through an open window.  
  
"Oh, and Trowa, Ms. Noin's here to pick Quatre up."  
  
This time, it was Quatre's turn to groan and pick his shirt up from the floor.


	28. Four F

**I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four F]**

This time he had gone too far. It wasn't just the throbbing pain in his backside that told him that. It was also the guilt that gnawed at him that reminded him and chided him for his disobedience.

Ms. Noin was not one to lay a hand on him but the last incident had been too much for her. He remembered the look on her face when he came down a little disheveled and a little tired. She had not suspected anything, being too furious to notice anything at that moment, but she was more than mad.

He'd been dragged home with Heero, Duo, and Wufei reprimanding him. He couldn't forget the grip Ms. Noin had on him when they dropped off each of his betrayed friends. She was so outraged that she lectured him right in front of the other children in the orphanage, her voice reaching great levels while her masked boyfriend tried to calm down the terrified and confused children.

Now he was back in his small, hard bed, lying on his stomach. He figured that he'd have to sleep that way for the next few days.

Although his body ached, he wasn't bothered by it that much. What bothered him the most was the thought of having betrayed everyone's trust. They all looked up to him, praised his as if he were some sort of divine being, incapable of wrongdoing. Not only did the last incident disappoint them, it had also brought down Trowa's standing with them as well.

A knock on his door brought him out of his quiet contemplation as he tried to clear his mind of dismal thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened a fraction to reveal the small figure of a girl hiding behind the wooden door. She seemed unsure whether to intrude on the person on the bed. Quatre welcomed her forward and offered for her to sit on his bed.

"Hi Quatre," she said. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am. Thank you very much. Do you need anything in particular?" he asked.

His voice was soft and comforting as he stroked the back of the teary-eyed girl.

"Quatre?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Could I give you something?"

"Of course."

He wiped her tears off with his thumb and was surprised when the child suddenly jumped out of her position to retrieve the present. She ran out the door and when she returned, had a pair of angel wings constructed from scrap paper held on her chubby hands.

"I made this for you so you'll be happy again," she said.

"Thank you. It's very lovely," he responded and smiled in gratitude.

He laid the offered gift on the side table and gave the little girl a kiss on the cheek before he sent her down for breakfast. She smiled in response, blushed a bit, and obediently did as she was told. This left Quatre to mull over the subject matter that was continuing to bother him.

He picked up the present and read the fuzzy handwriting on it.

"To my guardian angel," it said.

"Oh great," he groaned. "I wonder who's putting these ideas in their head."

Despite the growing concern that he was being turned into this 'angel' figure, he was happy and completely flattered that the children thought of him as such. Although he was getting tired of the idea, he always enjoyed their innocent faith in him.

He looked at the present again and realized that he had to make room for his new angel wings, pair number twenty-three. It seemed like the children made a hobby off of making them.

"They look up to you," he remembered from yesterday's long lecture and sighed audibly.

"Do you know how they felt when they found out that their guardian angel left them for the devil himself."

Now he was sure that those crazy ideas had come from someone he knew too well. He just couldn't eliminate Ms. Noin's voice from his head and hid it under the pillow. He felt guilty enough and the voices were not helping.

"You are not to go near that demonic excuse for a boy again. I'm sure that the courts will have a grand time deciding his sentence."

He hit his head on the mattress over and over again. This time, he was sure that it was his error that had befallen them both. After all, it was him that had met with Trowa and not the other way around.

Then he remembered a sight he would never forget. He recalled the children clinging to him like a lifeline, pleading with him to stay with them. Some were so irrationally terrified that they cried and howled in absolute fear while the rest of his excuses for himself were forgotten.

"I am such an idiot," he said, his guilt reaching unhealthy levels.

He buried his face deeper in the pillows, knowing for certain that he deserved everything that was coming to him.

Just as he was going to chide himself further, he heard another knock on his door. There were just too many visitors disturbing him from his guilt session.

"Come in," he said in a muffled voice.

The door swung open and the very concerned and regretful Ms. Noin came running to him and picked him up, unaware of the still sore bruises he had from the day before.

"I am so sorry, Quatre," she said as she hugged him tight.

She rained kisses around his head in a desperate plea for forgiveness. It was apparent that she wasn't going to let the incident pass by without an understanding between the two of them. In truth, she had always chosen Quatre as her favorite ward, guilty of misleading parents into withdrawing their desire to adopt him more than once. Her fondness for him was more than obvious, showing just how much she thought of him as her own.

"I'm so sorry honey," she said again. "I just couldn't control myself last night. Seeing you in that scoundrel's house just enraged me too much to even think. Will you forgive me?"

He nodded and she hugged him again and ran circles around his back. The warm hand soothed his back and soothed his conscience as well. He felt better now that she was no longer angry with him but still couldn't eliminate the worry that passed over him whenever she mentioned anything about Trowa.

"Hey Zechs, Milliardo or whatever your name is today! " she suddenly screamed, the once sweetness of her voice replaced with one of eerie threat.

"Get your masked ass up here right now and bring Quatre his ice cream!"

Within seconds, her boyfriend was by the door with the requested treat in hand. He panted and gasped for air, looking like he ran a hundred-mile track.

"It's about time you got here," she said and took the cone from him, handing it to Quatre. The frightened boy took the treat willingly and consumed it without another word.

"You won't go back to that little demon, right Quatre?"

He simply nodded in response.

"Beside, he's going to get his spoiled little rear behind bars if it's the last thing I do."

Quatre tensed but did not dare speak.

"Now that's my favorite little angel boy," she said, patting his head.

Quatre sighed again, taking notice of the overused nickname that was beginning to annoy him.

It was minutes later before he realized that Ms. Noin's masked boyfriend was still around. True, everyone felt uneasy around the strange man's presence but Quatre had always found it soothing. It was strange that he did so since he was never given the chance to spend time with the mysterious man. For some reason, he felt safe, as if he was around someone familiar.

"Her anger management therapy's working better you know," he suddenly said in that same deep and soothing voice.

"Take care of yourself Quatre. Remember that there are consequences to giving in to that boy's dangerous obsession. He may mean well but sometimes, well-meaning deeds may be the most devastating to accept and the most risky to follow."

With that said, the masked man exited the door, leaving Quatre to contemplate on the meaningful advice that was more puzzling than helpful. He felt a spine-chilling fear at the remembrance of the words 'dangerous obsession', realizing that he'd received the same advice more than once. Perhaps he had to think about his relationship with Trowa and how that obsession of his could prove fatal.

Soon after the idea disturbed him, he heard Ms. Noin's voice again, disrupting his train of thought. It was too loud and frightening not to notice.

"You know why I keep having to go back to that shrink? It's because of you and your stupid obsession with that mask! What's with the 'not being worthy' and 'my hands are tainted with sin' excuse you've been using for the past ten years? It's about time I cracked that thing open and grind it to the tiniest pieces. Maybe then, we'd finally look decent in public together!"

Quatre snickered and almost dropped his ice cream. Now he was sure that is wasn't only Trowa who had some kind of obsession. He decided that he'd behave to relieve Ms. Noin of her troubles and find a different way to solve his dilemma. It was possible that doing so would prevent her from having to go back to the psychiatrist and at the same time allow her to ease up on her boyfriend.

After he consumed the rest of his ice cream, he picked up a fresh set of clothes to get ready for a shower. He felt better now but was still worried about Trowa's condition. He was sure that the other would be in trouble after being caught within three hundred feet of him. He blushed, remembering that they were a lot closer than three hundred feet that day. He wondered what Ms. Noin's reaction would be if she found out that they weren't even apart but decided to keep it a secret for the time being.

He also hoped that Trowa wouldn't make too much trouble, especially if he were in prison. It would only cause him more harm and not to mention give his father another headache. He entered the bathroom and hoped fervently that the other was just fine.

Just as Quatre had hoped, Trowa was doing just fine. He was at the head of a large table while his father's army of lawyers cowered at the sight of him. His eyes spoke of disaster and murder as he looked at the documents before him. He flipped through each page, noting important information and relevant details. When he was done, he put the papers down and regarded his minions.

"Report," was the only word he uttered before the grown men shuffled through their papers, each of them unwilling to answer the command.

"I said 'report'," he said again, addressing them calmly.

One of the lawyers finally found his voice.

"We're afraid that the judges cannot be paid off."

"How so?"

"The restraining order will be upheld. The distance of separation as well as the time it will be implemented will be lengthened unless they say otherwise."

"…and you have tried this?"

"With all of them from top to bottom, sir."

"I see."

Trowa looked down on the table and thought things over. For the first time in his life, he was unable to control the outcome of things. Nobody was able to grant his desires just when it concerned him the most. This was all new to him and it was frustrating him to the point of uncontrollable rage.

Nevertheless, he decided to stay calm if only to think clearly. He was unwilling to loose Quatre so soon and all hell would break loose if he did.

"They have also accused you of kidnapping."

"Kidnapping?"

The word 'kidnapping' brought him out of his reverie.

"Abduction, sir. Taking someone against their will."

"I know that you imbecile! I know what kidnapping means!"

He realized then that luring Quatre to a black van filled with cups of chocolate ice cream was a bad idea. It just seemed too irresistible at that time. He remembered sticking a pair of wings to the other's back as he admired the beaming boy partake of the delicious treat. He brought him home right after and shared his collection of toys. He didn't remember Quatre protesting and was sure that bringing the boy home didn't mean that he was abducting him.

"For crying out loud!" he screamed. "I was only eight! It wasn't like I was going to hold him for ransom or anything. This is insane!"

"Umm, you've done it more than a dozen times sir."

"What can I say? He loves chocolate ice cream and for the last time, I was eight freaking years old!"

He was starting to loose his temper but tried to gain some control on himself. He took deep breaths and decided that terrifying the already jittery lawyers would only make the time to manage the problem longer. He repeated the process over and over again and did not pay attention to the curious looks on his companions' faces.

"How about your father, Trowa?"

The voice was filled with concern and apparent respect for the older man.

"Oh, him," Trowa said, still trying to clam himself down. "I've decided to give him a break."

"A break, sir?"

"Yes, a well-deserved break."

Somewhere in the south of town, Mr. Barton was singing heartily behind the metal bars that confined him. His face radiated with glee and incomparable bliss as he repeated the lines to a long forgotten nursery rhyme.

"Shut your yapping," one of his irritated companions said.

"What's his problem?" another asked.

"Me? I don't have a problem. My dear boys, I've actually gotten rid of a problem and that's the reason why I'm celebrating."

Mr. Barton seemed more insane than criminal.

"Hey, I know you!"

"It's that rich Barton fellow!"

"Barton."

The room fell silent. Mr. Barton assumed this as a sign of an imminent attack and cowered in the corner. He waited for the beating and the probable bloodshed but was surprised when none of that came. When he opened his eyes, he felt more troubled at the sight before him. His presumed enemies were looking at him like he was a lost puppy.

"Aww, man. I feel for you. We feel for you," one of the men said.

"Is your son as bad as they say he is?"

Mr. Barton nodded. He was still unsure of their motives.

"Well then, Barton, welcome to paradise!"

After that, nothing more could be heard from the town's jail but booming laughter and songs of cheer from multitudes of celebrating men.


	29. Four G

**I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four G]**

Trowa entered the library equipped with scrap sheets and pencils in hand. He looked ineptly formal despite the heavy looking backpack that hung at his shoulders and bore down his back. It was apparent that he had came ready to do some research, his face conveying the determination that flowed through him.

The door opened with a loud creak as he continued to move forward, unmindful of the looks of astonishment he received from the perplexed group of people. They eyed him with suspicion, knowing very well the capabilities of the wicked and intimidating young man.

Trowa went straight for the information desk and put his things down before addressing the librarian.

"Excuse me ma'am," he said, the formality and civility of the greeting surprising everyone.

The lady behind the booth arranged the books on the shelf and looked back. Noticing that she had someone to attend to, she quickly placed the last book she had on hand in its proper place and climbed down the tall ladder. The feeble support shook as she continued her descent.

Trowa tapped his fingers on the desk becoming more impatient by the second but chose not to say anything.

"Sorry about that," the lady said after stepping down from the ladder and arranging her glasses.

She seemed nice enough with her hair tied up in buns. The only difference in her was the odd tone she used that seemed like something on the verge of rage and yet, something that was gentle and calming.

"What can I get you?" she said and looked closer at the familiar boy in front of her. "...Mr. Barton?" she continued.

"Do you know where I could find these law books?" he asked and heard murmurs from the people that were within hearing distance. He was sure that this was going to be another 'hot topic' in the gossip arena.

The librarian faced her computer and typed in different keywords and after a few clicks, picked up a pencil that lay on the desk. She then scribbled something on a piece of paper.

"Here you go," she said and handed him the paper. "You have to go all the way to the back and turn left. Just follow that path over there. You'll know which ones they are when you see them. They're the thick flesh books with the red stripe in the middle."

"Thank you," Trowa said and proceeded to the direction of the books, occasionally looking at the paper on hand.

When he was out of earshot, the people started talking louder, their conversations all directed at one very popular topic. Trowa Barton was never one to ask for help and he certainly wasn't the type to come in a library and seek out the needed information on his own. He usually had his poor minions attending to his every desire. The change was odd and intriguing at the same time.

Not being able to hold in his question for a very long time, an inquisitive man walked up to the front desk, eager to have his question answered.

"Was that the Barton kid?"

"Yes," the lady answered, apathetic of the people's concerns.

"Aren't you troubled that he might blow up that section of the library? Knowing that kid, he might even end up blowing up the whole building!"

The librarian was now more disturbed of the man's postulation. Surely he didn't think that Barton's son was capable of such a thing. After all, his concerns were based on rumors and mere glimpses of the other's actions.

"Of course not, sir," she answered, a bit confused. "If I were you people, I'd stop making assumptions about that boy. I'm sure that he deserves proper judgment and a suitable defense on his behalf. He may be tough but I'm sure that he's more vulnerable than he looks."

Those that witnessed the conversation immediately stopped their constant gossip and went back to their reading, embarrassed that they were acting more like children.

The nice lady felt satisfied with her statement and went back to the shelf. She began to arrange the stack of books that were left but stopped when something tugged at her skirt. She looked down to find a grateful blond mouthing the words 'thank you' from his hiding place. She smiled at him and whispered 'You're welcome' in response before continuing her task.

The cautious blonde that continued to hide behind the desk felt no remorse as he continued to watch Trowa move along the open path. This time, Quatre was convinced that he wasn't breaking any rules. He made sure not to make any contact with Trowa. He didn't even make his presence known.

He was glad to find Trowa safe after Ms. Noin's admonition. He was relieved that the other wasn't rotting in jail but wondered just why he looked more solemn and detached than usual.

Quatre felt a surge of longing and followed Trowa's movement with his eyes. He yearned for the playful grin and the soft touch but was afraid of the consequences for the both of them. He knew Trowa would understand.

He continued to watch even after Trowa had disappeared in the corner, his blonde head peeking out from under the desk.

"Quatre Raberba Winner."

He twirled around and fell on his behind at the mention of his false name.

"You said you were just going to pick up a book," Duo said with his hands hanging on his hips. "Where is it? We've been waiting for you all day."

Quatre scrambled off from his position on the floor and looked at the librarian as if pleading with her to conjure up a sensible excuse.

"Now boys, I had to find the book for him and retrieve it from the top shelf," she said automatically. "Calm down. I'm sure that whatever you're planning on can wait."

She handed Quatre an antiquated book and had them on their way. After making sure that they were satisfied, she went back to work behind the desk and again noticed the sudden murmurs that went on. There was yet another gossip session.

She was bothered by the resumption of the earlier topic and cleared her throat. The sound caught the people's attention, as they looked at her in question. The once nice lady took on a more commanding stance, her features instantly changing into one of authority and influence.

"If anybody decides to mention to the authorities that Trowa Barton and Quatre Winner were within approximate distances of each other, then..." she paused and arranged her glasses. Her eyes were hard and threatening as she continued. "...they will have to answer to Lady Une."

Everyone looked back down on their books, trying to get the image of the frightening librarian off their heads. They knew better than to defy a former military officer who had been rumored to use objectionable methods when accomplishing her tasks.

Toward the back of the library, Trowa sat silent as he browsed through a thick book. Every now and then, he would scribble something down on his paper. His brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to decipher the unfamiliar words that sprang out before him. To his side was a dictionary also opened for consultation.

He hadn't been there for too long but it felt like he'd been there for hours. He had an inkling to what he was looking for but found it hard to search through unfamiliar grounds. It didn't look like he was going to find something viable any time soon.

He leaned back on his chair, stretched his arms and closed his eyes.

"There has got to be a reason why I'm feeling troubled all of a sudden. It isn't like I can't handle something as simple as this. There must be something else that I'm missing, something important," he thought to himself. "There's just something nagging me about this whole situation. It's like I'm supposed to know something I don't."

He took the pencil from the desk and twirled it in his fingers.

"Is there something wrong with him? Is there something wrong with me? Am I supposed to do something I'm not doing? Why am I so uneasy?"

He sighed and buried his face in the books again. It was obvious that thinking too deeply and asking too many unvoiced questions was only a waste of his precious time. He wanted to see Quatre soon and there wasn't any more time to waste.

He opened another book and stared at the text that was more difficult to read than his math equations.

"Math," he suddenly remembered and took out his homework.

What presented itself before his eyes were numerous problems that now seemed just as difficult as the book he'd been reading. He groaned in dismay and let his head drop down on the table. He was sure that he was going to spend the rest of the day there. Only a miracle could save him.

His eyes stared at the tiled floor for a while and then caught a glimpse of a paper that was sticking out from the side of his bag. He didn't remember putting the paper there and was certain that he didn't forget about it. He just wasn't messy. He always prided himself when it came to neatness and organization.

He pulled out the offending paper from the bag and started to deposit it into the trash bin when he recognized a familiar handwriting. He opened up the folded paper and read the heading.

"Double Integrals in Polar Coordinates made easy by QRW," it said.

Trowa smiled and continued to read the rest of its contents. After another quick run through the printed lesson, he tackled his homework and was surprised to find that the once foreign symbols were now making sense.

"My tutor's definitely doing his job," he said to himself as he continued breezing through the rest of the problems.

Outside, Quatre was done with his homework and conversing with his friends. They were currently engrossed on a topic that didn't hold his interest. He didn't really enjoy it when Heero, Duo, and Wufei would indulge themselves in their theories about war and the need of it. He never understood why they were so passionate about such matters. To him it was all unimportant and unnecessary. It was just one of the things he loathed.

So, instead of continuing to listen, his mind strayed off to different thoughts. At first, he thought of many random ideas but then his thoughts dwindled down into nothing. He was falling asleep and it was hard to keep his eyes open. He pinched his arm, trying to keep himself conscious and heard some voices coming from over the bushes.

"...destroyed my faith in the kindness that looms within the human heart," he heard.

He became curious and tried to listen in, carefully catching the words. Whatever those people were talking about had to be serious if they sounded that way.

"...can't always get what you want," was uttered by the same voice.

"You're crazy!" answered his companion.

He assumed that someone was having another theoretical discussion with a probably bored friend. Nowadays it seemed like people were more vocal when it came to their theories on life.

Moments later, two men emerged from the bushes and passed by the group of boys who were still having a discussion. Quatre noted the features of the two men and felt bothered by their presence. He didn't know why but he couldn't put himself at ease. He was always feeling that way recently and something was nagging at him to do something. The only problem was that he didn't know what that something was.

"Wouldn't you agree, Quatre?"

"Huh?"

Quatre was forced to tear his eyes away from the two men that walked off into the distance. He was a bit embarrassed that he strayed away from the conversation.

"He's daydreaming again," Duo said and pointed at him.

"It better not be about that brat," Heero warned.

Quatre just sighed. It looked like Trowa would never win their respect. It was funny how a couple of broken toys and a broken pride could affect a person's scorn toward someone else. The simplest things always made the biggest impact.

Wufei snapped his fingers before Quatre's eyes.

"Are you falling asleep?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I told you he was daydreaming," Duo said again.

Quatre feigned innocence and forced away the troubled feeling he'd been having.

"Well, I better get home now before Ms. Noin comes looking for me."

"It isn't that late."

"You know her."

"Fine. We'll bring you home just in case."

The four made their way towards the orphanage the same time Trowa came out of the building. He looked weary as he took heavy footsteps down the short stairway. He was able to complete his school work but was still unable to find any errors or slip-ups in the restraining order. One false interpretation on their part could mean his victory.

Nevertheless, he continued out the door and decided to continue his search the following day. His father was still in jail and in need of his assistance. He doubted that his father would want to go back home but it was absurd for him to stay locked up otherwise.

Trowa proceeded to the awaiting vehicle and asked his chauffer to take him to his father. He called up his lawyers, confirmed their statements and closed his eyes for a quick nap on the way to the town jail.

Unknown to his son, Mr. Barton was caught up in his recent activities. He was currently teaching some of the inmates business ethics. All seemed concentrated as they listened to the respected man go on and on about the revered rules and explained to them just why they were needed.

A few questions and nods later, Mr. Barton handed out rolled up papers, makeshift diplomas.

"Barton, you have turned me into a decent man," one of the inmates said while the others nodded in agreement.

"That's very good then," Mr. Barton answered. "I'm in need of a few decent men in my company. When you come out of here, give me a call and the job is yours."

"Dad."

That one word got everyone's attention. Mr. Barton spun around to find his son on the other side of the confining bars. His new friends didn't waste any time and immediately covered him from the feared boy. They used themselves as shields, standing unabashed and proud.

"Let's go home dad," Trowa said, not even insulted at the foolish display.

A guard opened the gate and soon after, Mr. Barton was released with the inmates voicing out their opposition. They continued to shout and threaten the silent young man beside him.

"It's okay, boys," Mr. Barton interrupted and took command of the situation. "I'll be fine."

"Whatever you say Barton."

With the blessings of his new friends, Mr. Barton walked back with his son to the awaiting vehicle and started their journey home. Since the town jail was quite far from their home, the trip back was a long one.

Mr. Barton noticed his son's silence and was stunned at the complete change that was presented before him. His son was no longer whining or indulging himself in childish mischief. Instead, he was very quiet. His face was blank as if he were indifferent of the things around him. The ominous threats were no longer there as he scanned the outside.

A few more minutes followed in complete silence and Mr. Barton felt uneasy. The silence that permeated the inside of the car was more unnerving than calming.

"The bail has been paid and they can't put you back in there unless I commit another offense," Trowa said, breaking the silence for the moment.

"Thank you, son," was the curt reply.

Mr. Barton looked over at Trowa and thought it ridiculous that he was still afraid of the boy. The fear always pushed him back from his son and somehow, he knew that this time, he had to be the father Trowa needed instead of the outsider he usually was. His son was growing up without him.

He took a tentative glance and put his hand gently on his son's shoulder.

"You're tired," he said.

Trowa looked up to his father to reveal the worn out features of his face.

"I've been busy," Trowa answered.

He looked as if he wanted to say something but withdrew his decision and slumped on his seat. It was very unusual for him and it was now obvious to Mr. Barton that there was a problem. He leaned back on his seat too and faced his son again.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Actually, yes."

Mr. Barton was surprised at the answer but did not comment. Instead, he allowed his son to unburden anything he wished.

"I want Quatre back."

Of course, this was a regular request from the boy but this time, it was said with a lot more sincerity and a lot less of the childish demands that came with it. He remembered hearing the words said followed by threats but this one was different. Nevertheless, he thought it proper to confirm his guess.

"He is not one to be owned, son," he said and waited for the reply.

"That's not what I meant."

"The what do you mean?"

Trowa let out a deep breath and leaned further into the cushions of the car seat. He was no longer concerned of how defeated he looked. He realized that his pride had been wounded enough that he was no longer able to defend it.

"I don't know," he answered after a pause.

"I think you do."

"If I did then I wouldn't be this confused."

"You know it, son. You just haven't realized it yet. I'm sure that you'll find your answers as long as you don't give up too soon."

"Thanks dad," Trowa said and leaned on his father's shoulder. As soon as he did, he fell asleep, leaving Mr. Barton with his own set of unanswered questions.

He knocked the window open and after greeting the chauffer, asked "What has he been doing?"

"He's been in the library for most part of the day. He spent the rest of his time arranging your release."

He looked back down at his sleeping boy and realized just what he could do to help and smiled a rare but genuine one.

"Don't worry, son," he whispered to the slumbering boy. "You've done what you can. It's daddy's. I'm sure that Ms. Noin would appreciate a visit."

Mr. Barton adjusted his position and fell asleep as well. The rest of the trip followed in silence just as it had begun.


	30. Four H

**I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four H]**

Quatre left the playroom, too tired to take out the taped wings on his back and the golden ring that the children somehow managed to attach above his head. His hair was in tangles and the white robe that he was currently wearing was both humiliating and uncomfortable. He looked more like a run down wannabe than the immaculate being that the children were aiming for.

"I'm getting tired of this," he muttered and proceeded to the stairway.

Of course, he loved the children dearly but their naive association was beginning to get on his nerves.

"I look just like everybody else," he said in frustration.

He started to walk up the stairway, intent on changing and taking a quick nap but was drawn to the news that the children proclaimed in silent gossip.

"The devil's daddy's here."

He blinked and then glanced down to find the wealthy businessman waiting outside Ms. Noin's office. He argued with himself whether he should listen in on their conversation or not and decided that he might as well do so. It was his chance to understand the real situation since nobody seemed inclined to explain to him just what was happening. Perhaps they though he was too naive to be plagued with such foul proceedings despite his proven maturity. Several attempts were proven fruitless and he doubted that this time would be different.

"Now honey," Ms. Noin would say. "We're just going to talk about something important. You don't have to worry about anything."

He hated being secluded from such talks, especially when they concerned him. He remembered the times when radiant young couples would come by the orphanage, pinching his cheeks until they turned red. They'd talk to him like some incompetent infant then pat his head and ask him if he'd like to come home with them. Often times, he'd refuse. But then, he was never really able to go home with any of them. He never knew why.

The problem with Trowa was no different. From the first time he came in contact with the other boy, it seemed like everyone around him was intent on keeping the two away from each other. It was as if Trowa had an incurable disease waiting to infect him the moment he came close. Sure, Trowa was a bit sinister but he was also a very pleasant person to be with when given the chance.

Without rationalizing his action any further, he ran up to his room, closed the door and placed his ear on the ground to hear the conversation through the thin flooring.

In the meantime, Mr. Barton looked inquisitively at the children that were gathered in one corner. They were pointing at him and then whispering words to each other. It was funny how the children tried to hide the topic but it was obvious from Mr. Barton's point of view that they were talking about his son.

He understood Trowa's situation and felt bad that he didn't notice anything sooner. His son had been judged before he even acted and therefore had no reason to disprove the people's assumptions.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Barton."

The voice interrupted him from his thoughts as he looked up to face the irritated Ms. Noin.

"Still the dog to your master?" she said and then continued. "Where are your back-up troops?"

"My lawyers are not needed," he said in reply and adjusted his suit. "May I come in?"

Ms. Noin moved out of the way and let the man in. These visits were now very familiar and undoubtedly the same.

The ceiling shook a bit as Quatre adjusted his position.

"What do you think of my son?" Mr. Baton asked immediately without waiting for Ms. Noin to settle down.

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I think that he's the embodiment of evil set on corrupting the souls of the innocent."

She sat on the large chair behind the desk and eyed her unwanted guest.

"Very well chosen words, Ms. Noin," he said. "Is that the reason why you are determined to keep him away from your precious ward?"

Ms. Noin just laughed.

"If it wasn't then we wouldn't have this conversation now, would we?"

"Do you know my son?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Just answer the question."

"Yes."

Ms. Noin crossed her arms, quite amused at the little ploy that the affluent man was using.

"That's strange. I don't even know him and I'm his father. May I ask you, just how did you get to know him so well?"

"Rumors have been..."

"Rumors are merely unconfirmed fallacies with the purpose of destroying the stature and nature of the person being accused. They do nothing but quell the anger and increase the probability of a person doing such the thing they are accused of."

"Defending your son again?"

"I didn't defend him. I merely disproved you."

Ms. Noin fell silent, thinking of a retort. Quatre just whistled in awe, surprised that Trowa's father could speak so well. He shifted a bit from his position on the floor, causing it to creak and continued to listen to the interesting argument going on.

"These 'tag' names that have been put on them are the same as well," Mr. Barton continued. "The 'angel' and the 'demon'," he said and paused. "Very interesting thought but it's not very original. It's strange that the whole town has been going around with this staged play that neither my son nor Quatre has agreed to."

"Heh," was Ms. Noin's reaction. "Sure, that's the observation from a man who only wishes to indulge his son."

"Ms. Noin, this insanity will end now. I will no longer hide in the shadows. It's time for me to take action. I know the law Ms. Noin and I know how to make it work against you. I am not some bungling idiot who hides behind his lawyers. I've played the part of the clueless fool long enough. And if I am correct, the restraining order is temporary so it should expire in..." he paused and checked his watch. "...Oh, I'd say about one hour and thirty-seven minutes."

Quatre got up and jumped in jubilation, causing the floors to quiver and the occupants of the room downstairs to look up. He didn't need to hear any more, knowing that he had to prepare for something else later that day. He took out his costume and changed into more comfortable clothing.

Ms. Noin remembered who the occupant of the room above was and suddenly felt her panic rise. She realized that she hadn't been paying enough attention to the matter and chided herself for forgetting the small but relevant detail.

"You should've scheduled the hearing earlier."

Ms. Noin muttered something intelligible and then opened the door to her office, signaling for the victor to leave her presence.

Mr. Baton obliged her and then stopped just before he stepped out completely.

"My son may be a troublemaker Ms. Noin but he also has endless amounts of persistence. If you think that he's nothing more than a delinquent brat then you haven't seen the genuine boy behind all that. I'm glad that Quatre has seen through his disguise. That's why he keeps coming back to my son no matter what the consequence."

Mr. Barton made his exit and Ms. Noin just stood at the door, thinking for the first time about what they'd discussed so many times before.

Exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes later, Quatre was attached to the window of the Barton home, peeking inside to find his target engrossed in reading a book. He thought about knocking on the window to gain access but decided against that, preferring to watch Trowa in his quiet reading. He didn't look that much different from the last time he saw him but there was something else different. He was more solemn, devoid of the mischief that used to come along with him.

A bug landed on Quatre's nose as he watched and he reflexively reached for his nose to shoo off the insect. He scratched his itchy nose in annoyance, forgetting that he had to keep a steady hand on the windowsill.

Trowa turned his head to the window at the sound of something falling and put his book down. He proceeded to the window and opened it to find slender fingers hanging on to the feeble support.

"I thought angels could fly?" he asked, staring at the hanging boy.

"It's not funny Trowa. It's a long way down. Get me up before I fall off."

Trowa reached out his hand and pulled up the thankful blonde. He smiled at his unexpected guest and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek.

"I hope we won't get caught," he said and frowned.

"Your dad took care of that. Now, what do you want to do?" Quatre asked and tugged at Trowa's hand.

"Anything you want, Angel."

"Trowa, you know I hate it when you call me that."

"But..."

"Fine," Quatre huffed.

"I missed you, you know," Trowa whispered and put his arms around Quatre's waist. "Why don't we go out for chocolate ice cream?"

Quatre's anger immediately dissipated. He did miss Trowa as much as the other did him and no matter how much he was annoyed with the nickname, he figured that he might as well endure it for the rest of the day. After all, he didn't want to spoil their reunion by fuming.

A few blocks of walking and two scoops of ice cream later, they walked hand in hand, not minding the reactions of the people that were appalled by their cohesion and careless laughter. Both dismissed the people as ignorant fools and continued to catch up with each other's side of the story.

"So, why do you hate it when I call you Angel?" Trowa suddenly asked after throwing his ravaged cone in the trash and licking off the rest of the chocolate off his lips.

"Because I'm not," Quatre answered while wiping his sticky fingers on a napkin.

"I think you are."

Quatre stopped in his footsteps and looked at Trowa, disappointed at the admittance. He felt betrayed that the other would think him an illusion, a myth that was meant to enliven false fantasies of the heavens. In truth, he had never thought the assimilation pleasant in any way. It bothered him that people thought him a mere phantasm, something that wasn't real and yet existed in their minds.

"I'm not," Quatre said again in a more somber and insistent tone. "I don't want to be one."

"But you are."

Quatre looked away from him.

"Stop it Trowa. You can't always get what you want. I don't want to be your illusion anymore. You might as well go back to read your angel books and stare at the angels in your ceiling because I'm not going to be the doll you'll parade around like everybody else does."

He let go of the other's hand and turned around. At first, he couldn't move but then he forced himself to walk away, leaving Trowa to contemplate on what he said. He always hoped that he'd find someone that understood his feelings toward the matter but he failed, finding out the person he loved the most had deceived him. What Trowa loved about him was merely a projection of his false daydreams. He simply wanted Trowa to love Quatre, the Quatre without the imaginary wings.

He then accepted that it would always be the same way. It had been the same for quite some time now, through different lives and different encounters. He would always be that guardian angel, there to protect but never there to experience his own joy and existence.

As he continued to walk away, he caught a glimpse of two men approaching Trowa. He was sure that he'd seen them somewhere before and was immediately in fear of their intentions. He didn't know just how he figured it out but realized what all his friend's warnings were for. He was playing a dangerous game with Trowa.

At that instant, the events of the near and distant past were brought together, concatenated to bring about a sad but necessary epiphany.

"Maybe this is the way it's supposed to end," he mused. "I never thought that it would hurt this much to leave."

Without any further hesitations, he leaped for Trowa and latched his arms on the other's neck before laying his head on the his shoulder.

"I guess Trowa Barton always gets what he wants after all," he whispered and closed his eyes before he chocked back a painful cry.

A shot rang loudly in Trowa's ears before he heard a cry and a limp body in his arms. All he could do was look down and then at the perpetrator, his face blank and calm, as if not comprehending the situation.

"You little brat!" a large man holding a handgun yelled. "Didn't I tell you before that you can't always get what you want?"

An image from ten years ago quickly permeated his head. He remembered firing someone in a fit of anger and frustration, later acquiring a fallen angel that had dropped from above. He stood frozen.

"You crazy nut! I told you that this wasn't the way to settle this!" his companion of smaller stature said and motioned for the larger man to drop his weapon.

"No! He destroyed my faith in human kindness years ago. I'm not going to stop until angel-obsessed over there is dead."

The smaller man grabbed the gun and shook his companion, forcing him to look at the scene he's caused.

"Idiot!" he said and continued in a softer voice. "He already is."

Trowa continued to stare at the light body that was supported by his own. He never moved ever since the shot and never heard anything after that.

Like a sudden blow to an already fallen soul, a realization of immense proportions adulterated him, causing his eyes to open and his mind to remember. In a scene that resembled a familiar dream, it appeared before him - a sad clown with an empty candy bag on the sidewalk, smoke filling the air and then an angel appearing engulfed by it. For once, the orphan called Trowa was not alone.

All of a sudden, the scene changed into a grotesque one, of two men, one smaller than the other holding the angel captive. Minutes of watching and a sickening episode later, the boy hidden in the shadows screamed, piercing the air with a deafening screech of sorrow.

Trowa understood everything now. What he regretted was that his realization had come too late. His blind obsession had caused him the dearest person to him and a continued sense of helpless longing.

As he looked at the motionless body that was taken away from him, all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of grief, guilt, and emptiness. All he could do was continue to watch like the dumbstruck spectator. All he could utter was a single name that he so often refused to acknowledge.

"Quatre," his lips formed and his throat elicited.

Was it the angelic guise or the being that he truly loved?


	31. Four I

**I Dreamed of Angels [Part Four I]**

For the rest of the week, Trowa spent his time in his room, occasionally coming down for meals and necessary activities. He didn't sob like everybody else thought he would and he didn't blame the situation on anyone like everyone assumed. Unlike so many other predictable reasons, he stayed clam and composed. He was just there, like the gum stuck to the underside of the table.

Existing for no apparent reason was what unnerved Mr. Barton the most. Not being used to the change but thrilled at the same time, he considered the circumstances unstable if not downright debilitating. He couldn't make up his mind whether to let the situation be or release the inner demons his son was keeping within.

After much deliberating with the terrified servants, Mr. Barton chose not to interfere. Instead, he spent each day coming in the room, calling his son to come down for meals. He figured that the new day was going to be no different.

"Trowa, breakfast is ready," he said jovially and all he got in return was silence.

It bothered him to no end but he never showed it.

Mr. Barton opened the door to the room fully and looked in to find Trowa lying on the bed with his hair still wet from the morning shower. He was gazing at his ceiling as if in silent contemplation. The angels in bright colored paints hovering above him made no indication that they were going to stand before him.

"Trowa, wake up. Breakfast is ready," Mr. Barton repeated although he knew that the unresponsive figure on the bed was wide-awake.

He came closer and then shook Trowa a bit, causing the other to snap out of his eerie trance.

"Huh?" he asked as if just waking up from a long slumber.

Recognition filled his eyes as he rubbed them and stood up to join his father for breakfast. Upon reaching the table, he consumed the meal in silence while the servants waited, anticipating a possible tantrum. To their relief, none of it came and they were left to evaluate what they should be anticipating next.

Trowa stood up a few minutes later, his stomach satisfied and his father still bewildered. He gave his thanks and then walked back up to his familiar territory.

"Should we be afraid of this?" one of the servants asked Mr. Barton when Trowa's door clicked shut.

Mr. Barton stared at the stairway. He sighed and then folded his hands together.

"I'm not a mind reader," he said before thinking about his next statement. "I don't know anymore. There's not even one expression on his face."

"Perhaps he's gone mad, sir," another servant suggested.

"I don't think that's it. It must be something else," he answered and then drifted off.

Meanwhile, Trowa was back in his position, staring off into his ceiling and feeling none of the sorrow he'd felt earlier that week. In truth, he wasn't actually paying attention to the art but instead was staring at nothing. His mind drifted off into oblivion, of meaningless and empty existence. He noticed very little of the occurrences around him even after a clumsy figure knocked over his expensive figurine.

"I think he's still sleeping."

"No he's not. His eyes are open."

"Then explain the catatonic state."

A mumble could be heard and then an irritated retort.

"Maxwell, we didn't come here to argue. Barton is simply choosing to ignore us."

"I was trying to but you were a bit distracting," Trowa interrupted, causing the shocked intruders to stop their bickering and pay attention to the person seated on the bed. "Where's bodyguard number three and how may I help you gentlemen?" he continued in a dull tone.

"Umm," Duo started, caught up in trying to fix the damage he'd caused. "He's busy distracting your dad with his explosives," he said while trying to piece together the broken porcelain.

Trowa stared at him, waiting for the answer to the second question and Duo just stared back, not knowing what he was supposed to say next. He motioned his arms in question and gave the other a questioning gesture. It was then that Wufei decided to step in, pushing his friend aside.

"I've warned him about you," he said and Trowa just continued to look at him. "But he never listened to me or anyone else for that matter."

Wufei crossed his arms and Trowa did not acknowledge his presence.

"You're a fool Barton and so is he. But out favorite fool really liked you for some reason I can't fathom."

Wufei started to pace around the room and then stopped to look at the book placed on top of the wooden desk. In the meantime, Duo was by the door, signaling for Heero to take the fake dynamite away from Mr. Barton's perplexed face and join them. He almost yelped when he heard Wufei let a out a mocking laugh.

Wufei didn't bother to explain himself and just tossed the book to Trowa. The other didn't attempt to catch the object.

"I see now why you were so fond of him," he said while looking at the majestic ceiling. "A lot of us were guilty of that too. I'm not sure if you've decided to let go of this little illusion of yours but you will receive our assistance nonetheless. Quatre is our brother and we will do all we can for his happiness and well-being."

Trowa blinked his eyes and then looked at the speaker, for the first time acknowledging the people around him. He didn't say anything but it was obvious that the words sparked his interest. Wufei smirked at his reaction just as his two other friends joined him.

Still on the table even with the food long gone, Mr. Barton toyed with the confiscated explosives that the serious youth somehow managed to threaten him with. It was a fake, of course but the look on the handler's face said otherwise. He smiled and then tossed the object in the trash bin.

"Kids nowadays are just so unpredictable."

As he walked to his study, he heard a loud thump followed by a string of curses coming from Trowa's room. Curious as to what activities were going on upstairs, he went to the room where the disturbance came from, knocked and then opened the door when he received no response.

What he saw inside both shocked and amused him. Although Trowa was nowhere to be seen, it seemed like he had a couple of intruders.

"Ouch! It isn't that hard to shove me up the window. Now take off that mask so you could see what you're doing."

"But Noin..."

"Zechs Marquise, I demand that you take that silly thing off your face so Millardo could give me a proper boost."

Mr. Barton's eyebrow rose. He knew that he should have helped them up but the scene was all too entertaining to disturb. It was apparent that Ms. Noin was trying to climb up Trowa's window, presumably being assisted by her boyfriend. What made the situation even more comical was not the fact that a grown woman was sneaking in through the window but the fact that she needed her boyfriend's two alter egos to assist her. Mr. Barton couldn't decide whom he liked better, Millardo or Zechs.

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because, honey, " Ms. Noin said in an irritated tone while trying to get a good grip and stepping all over his face. "Quatre was calling for him and I'm here to get him."

"I though you didn't want Quatre anywhere near him," Mr. Barton interrupted.

Both intruders were startled at the voice and lost their grip, falling on the bushes below. Mr. Barton let out an elegant laugh and looked out the window.

"Would you like to come in my home through the front door?"

Ms. Noin straightened out her clothes and went to the front with what dignity she had left. Her boyfriend followed close behind. Mr. Barton welcomed his guests.

"How may I help you?"

"We've come to kidnap your son."

Ms. Noin looked at Zechs indignantly and stepped on his foot.

"We didn't come here to 'kidnap' him," she said and came in to take a seat on the living room couches. "I have come here because I've realized..." She stopped, taking out the imaginary lint off her clothes. "...that what I've been doing is wrong."

Mr. Barton looked at her with interest. She just sighed and then continued. "You could thank my masked hunk over there for pointing it out."

"You mean all my little talk did nothing and a few words from him and then you suddenly get an epiphany."

"Hey bub, he's more elegant than you think. Besides, he's a smooth talker. You're just a smart ass. And Quatre's been telling him a lot of things."

"Maybe because he listens."

"Now don't you start blaming everything on me again. I haven't won one discussion with you yet because you keep on talking."

"Fine. But let me remind you that my son isn't as awful as you think he is."

"I've come here to get to know him too, okay." She crossed her arms and looked at him. "I'm trying to be nice. After all, my baby's in love with him."

She breathed in and then started to narrate her side of the story.

"I might as well tell you a little secret we have about Quatre. ...The orphanage found him when he was a toddler during the big fire of '83. People always wondered if he was a stray from a different town because after years of searching, they never found any of his relatives, dead or alive. There was nothing to match him with, no genetic similarities, nothing. It was like he appeared in a puff of smoke. He might have just happened to be crawling around in the ashes.

The circumstances of his appearance is very bizarre."

Mr. Barton was more than intrigued. The tale was most interesting.

"A few years later, I became the director of the orphanage. Of course, I thought that he was just like any other kid. We'd dress him up and present him to the young couples all the time. But then the poor darling always attracted the awful ones. Most of them just wanted to show off their adorable new adoption. None of them really wanted him as their son. You wouldn't believe how much trouble he's been through. He just never talks about it. That's the reason why I've been scrutinizing everyone."

She sighed and looked like she didn't want to talk about it any further but Zechs held her hand as if urging her to go on.

"I know that I'm not supposed to say this but nobody deserves him," she said, almost ready to leave. "...but your son."

Mr. Barton thought he was hearing things.

"You heard me right and I didn't make a mistake either. Your son may be after him for whatever intentions I can't imagine but I could see that Quatre loves him. When Quatre gets better, I want Trowa to take care of him and make him happy just like he'd been doing before I stepped in. And if I find out that he does anything contrary to what I said, I'm going to castrate him myself."

The two men present couldn't help but check down there, feeling sorry for Trowa if he ever made a mistake.

"I've said my part so I'll be leaving you now."

"Why leave so early?"

"Because if your son isn't here, I might as well return to the hospital before Quatre gets up."

"There's no need for that. I'm sure that those boys can take care of themselves."

"What?"

Just as the two continued their conversation, four young men walked in a busy hallway leading into a colorfully decorated room. Two of the four were bickering while the other two remained quiet.

"I told you it was the fifth floor. Why do you think the room is numbered 546? But no, look where you brought us Maxwell."

"Shh, you're making the babies cry."

"Put down that kid before Barton decides to run off."

"Too late," Heero interrupted and pointed to the last spot Trowa was standing on.

"Yuy, didn't I tell you to keep an eye on him?"

"I tied my shoelaces."

Wufei's forehead twitched. It seemed that incompetents were surrounding him.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure that he can handle it the rest of the way," Duo said in defense while continuing to coddle the infant he was holding.

"Idiot! If they recognize him, they'll kick him out and it's going to take another few days before we could sneak him in again."

"You're too upset you're going to get old fast, Wu. I said don't worry about it. I'm sure the devil's pawn can find a way around us measly humans."

Indeed Trowa had successfully reached his target unnoticed. The additional glasses and the white coat probably did nothing to conceal his palpable, outstanding bang but it was enough to get him through the crowds. They still blamed him for the incident and he was sure that he was going to be massacred if they found him roaming about.

"They're only measly humans," he reminded himself while looking around for witnesses.

He opened the door to room 546 and entered with caution. He took that time to let out the breath he'd been holding and wiped the sweat beading down his forehead. He then divested himself of the disguise.

After making sure that he wasn't followed, he turned around and gasped at what he saw. There laying on the bed was the person he hadn't seen for so long that he almost became a mere memory. Quatre looked as ethereal as ever, his peaceful face bringing a smile to Trowa's once unresponsive face.

He had initially thought that Quatre's condition worse than it actually was. Picking up the chart at the foot of the bed, he found that aside from a few stitches and some blood loss, Quatre was fine. The only indication that he was injured was some visible gauze that peeked from under the thin gown. He was expecting something a lot worse, probably something his mind had conjured up to help bring him to a consciousness he needed at that time.

Trowa walked closer and noticed that Quatre's cheeks were rosy pink.

"That's strange," he said and sat on the side of the bed. "He looks fine."

He picked up a hand and put it against his cheek to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He was sure that he'd lost the other. Everything seemed to work for him and he was grateful that it was that way.

"There's always a good side to always getting what you want," he said out loud and chuckled.

It was like a miracle meant for him, to be able to right what was wrong. He knew then that he was truly blessed with a gift and that gift was not the ability to obtain what he wished for. Instead, that gift was the person beside him. He'd thought things over for the past week and realized what he really wanted from the very beginning. It was not a myth, which he wanted, but instead a forged companionship that spoke of happiness and contentment.

"...the only thing I ever really wanted," Trowa whispered and touched the tranquil face.

Disturbed from his slumber, Quatre opened his eyes and gazed at the one above. He yawned and then blinked, receiving a shy kiss from the other.

"You've been sleeping too long Quatre," Trowa said and handed him a cup of water. "You could either drink that or I could take you out for some chocolate ice cream instead," he suggested and received a weak but enthusiastic nod from the other.

Trowa laughed but promised to do just that when he got better.

The rest of the day followed with the two undisturbed. Not once was the word 'angel' mentioned but the heavens were all rejoicing with the angels dancing gleefully on the grandiose ceiling of an unoccupied bedroom.


	32. Four J

Notes: Part 4J, the de-lemonized version. I've taken out the lemon portion of this fic but you can find the lemon version in my site.

**I Dreamed of Angels**

**[Part Four J]**

"Quatre!"   
  
Trowa ran halfway through the lawn trying to catch up with Quatre. He jogged and then went on to a full run, barely missing colliding with the front door. It was just his luck that Quatre was standing nearby, catching his arm before his face met the ground.   
  
"Yes?" Quatre asked as he helped the half fallen Trowa stand back up.   
  
Trowa whispered something into his ear before chuckling and straightening out his clothes.   
  
"No."   
  
"Why not?"   
  
"Because the family's coming over," Quatre answered while trying to find his keys to the door.   
  
"Didn't they come recently?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"I thought you talked to them about this obsession. Did Ms. Noin talk you into this?"   
  
"Actually, it was your father that won the argument. They were in on it together. Apparently, not seeing your kids for some time can be heartbreaking. He went on to talking about the importance of being close to your family. You know him. So, instead of them visiting every other day," he said and paused to find the right key that fit into the opening. "...they've given us a leeway and turned the waiting period into two weeks."   
  
"Here. Let me get that open," Trowa said and went on his turn to open the door. "So he convinced you too, huh? I thought that argument I gave you would work this time. Maybe it's about time that we get them a hobby."   
  
Finding the correct key, Trowa smiled in triumph and opened the door to find the expected guests already seated. They were comfortable in the lush couch, chattering about different topics while helping themselves to whatever they found in the kitchen. Both Quatre and Trowa stared with their eyes wide and mouths open.   
  
Ms. Noin was picking through the variety of chocolates inside a cherry colored box while Zechs was trying his hardest to open a bottle of champagne. Mr. Barton was there too, giving Zechs pointers on how to properly open the bottle. His words did nothing but add to the aggravation Zechs had toward the uncooperative bottle. A few pulls and grunts later, the cork came flying through the living room, landing right on Trowa's foot.   
  
"Ah, so the kids have returned," Mr. Barton said.   
  
"Don't you think that they're old enough to be called men?"   
  
The two already surprised figures at the door snapped their heads toward the direction of the unfamiliar voice only to be surprised even more. The new female, as they noted, was apparently no stranger to Mr. Barton. She emerged from the kitchen and had four tall, elegant glasses tucked between her fingers.   
  
She waited for Zechs to pour the liquid into the tall glasses and picked up two of them. One was for her and the other one was given to Mr. Barton. She handed it to him and he accepted it with a kiss on the lips.   
  
"Dad, who is that woman?"   
  
Trowa could not believe what he was witnessing.   
  
"See what happens when you don't see your family as often," Ms. Noin interrupted while Trowa continued to stare at his father in question.   
  
"Trowa, I thought that it was time that I settle down. After all, I see that you're doing very well now so I don't have to look out for you as much as I did before. I'm sure that nobody else will have their try at assassination plots."   
  
This did nothing to answer Trowa's question.   
  
Seeing that the problem wasn't going to be resolved soon, the stranger retrieved something from her purse and put on a pair of glasses. She fixed herself up and then smiled at the two by the door before saying something that gave more of a clue as to who she was.   
  
"Children, didn't I tell you to return your books on time?"   
  
Quatre's eyes filled with recognition. He smiled at her and came forward, transferring Trowa's tight grip on his arm to the side of the open door. He then proceeded to shake her hand in greeting. She seemed pleased to see the both of them.   
  
"You boys have grown up fast," she said, looking at Quatre and then at the still stunned Trowa.   
  
"Son, aren't you going to come up and greet her?"   
  
"Yes Trowa, don't to want to meet your new mommy?"   
  
"Noin, stop teasing him."   
  
"Oh come on Zechs. You're no fun."   
  
Trowa continued to stare off into the group but Quatre decided to help him in. The wind was starting to blow foreign pollen, dust and bugs inside and keeping it open longer ensured that they would be cleaning throughout the weekend. Quatre had other plans for the weekend. He pried Trowa's hand off the side of the door and whispered something into his ear.   
  
"At least he'll have a different hobby now. That means we could do a lot more things without them bothering us."   
  
In an instant, it seemed like Trowa snapped back into reality, remembering just what was going on and what he was supposed to do. He stepped into the house and approached his guest, taking her hand in greeting and looking at his father with a smirk.   
  
"I didn't know you had other activities aside from discussing my evil ways over milk and brownies with the servants."   
  
"Don't look too smug because she's part of the discussion group," Mr. Barton said.   
  
Trowa just smiled in response. He was glad that his father had finally found someone. The former librarian was unique in her own way. She was nice but fierce as well. She complemented his father's gentle nature.   
  
"So how did everyone get in?" Trowa asked, looking around to find the guilty party.   
  
"Oh, that isn't important," Ms. Noin replied and then turned to Quatre. "You know, the kids would like it very much if you and Trowa dropped by for a visit."   
  
"Umm, are you sure that they won't harass Trowa? They gave him a concussion the last time we visited."   
  
"Don't worry about it. They just think that his hair is his horns combed down. After all there's no other way to get his hair pointy and in that direction."   
  
"I wonder who gave them that idea?" Trowa asked, momentarily halting the conversation he was having with his father.   
  
"Oh, nobody."   
  
The rest of the afternoon went on with a variety of topics and hearty laughs. Both Quatre and Trowa were delighted to have their family over but a few hours later had them looking for the solace of silence. The past week was very hectic, filled with numerous meetings and tough decisions and now, they were anticipating a weekend of solitude. The friendly visit was welcome but they were looking forward to spending the rest of the week with each other.   
  
Quatre was getting tired as a result of the long week and Trowa was already half asleep. They only way to be alone together was to ask their guests to leave nicely but then these were exceptional guests.   
  
Not being able to stand it any longer, Quatre thought up a plan.   
  
"I need to talk to Trowa about something. We'll just take a little while," Quatre said and excused himself while dragging the drowsy Trowa away.   
  
When they were out of earshot, Quatre caught Trowa's lips in a kiss and brought him right out of dreamland.   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Trowa, I think it's time we do what you suggested earlier."   
  
"Aren't they going to notice that we're gone?" Trowa asked while Quatre pulled him into the bedroom.   
  
"That won't be a problem. They let themselves in. I'm sure that they know how to let themselves out too."   
  
"...and you're supposed to be the nice one."   
  
"I heard that. Now it's either we wait for them to leave until the sun comes down, offer them rooms for a sleep over, or take care of the problem right now."   
  
"But isn't..."   
  
Quatre pulled Trowa's hand forward and then whispered something into his ear. It was apparent that Trowa conceded to the argument. He grinned from ear to ear.   
  
"Why you're an even more evil genius that I am," Trowa said and then laughed his familiar, maniacal laugh.   
  
Quatre slapped his hand in Trowa's stomach in response.   
  
"Shh," he said while putting a finger over his lips. "You're starting to scare me too."   
  
Meanwhile, the guests were continuing their chitchat, oblivious to the fact that their hosts were gone for quite some time. They continued to talk, drink, and chew on the variety of treats on the table before them without once thinking about leaving. It was getting late.   
  
"Do any of you hear that?"   
  
"Hear what?"   
  
"Ah, Trowa!"   
  
Mr. Barton spit out the champagne he was drinking and Ms. Noin almost chocked on the large piece of chocolate she was chewing. Lady Une turned a faint shade of pink, not knowing how to react while Zechs stared at his lap, making noises in his head to forget that he ever heard anything.   
  
"So, as you were saying Zechs," Mr. Barton started, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable silence. "Why was..."   
  
A groan and a loud moan could be heard before Mr. Barton bolted for the coat hanger and retrieved all the coats. He distributed them to their respective owners and ushered everyone out. Within seconds, the living room was vacated, leaving two chuckling victors looking out the window.   
  
"So, how long do you think it's going to be before they forget about that?"   
  
"I doubt that they would."   
  
Trowa opened the door to the bedroom slowly, peering out to see if the guests were, indeed, gone from the vicinity. He frowned when he saw the mess they made and started to approach it and tidy it up before he was stopped by a seductive voice.   
  
"Oh, Trowa," Quatre said. "Would you rather clean that up or come and join your eager husband?"   
  
Trowa licked his lips. The dirty living room just begged to be cleaned. Its call was too strong. Then again, looking at Quatre in his open shirt, a result of their earlier make out session, was enough to lure him in without a second though.   
  
Trowa held out one of his hands while his other hand shut the door. Quatre got off the bed and walked toward him, placing his hand on top of the other. Trowa looked at it, smiled and then placed his lips gently on the offered hand with his eyes locking with the other's. He then invited him closer, delving into Quatre's succulent lips and entwined his fingers with the smaller, delicate ones. Finding more to discover than the sweet cavern of his mouth, he moved on and trailed his lips down the slender neck.   
  
Quatre arched his head back in quiet collaboration and quivered a bit when he felt his shirt slip off his shoulders. What followed the chill were warm, soft kisses that flooded his senses, leaving his mind in a state of euphoria. He became aware of the faint contact of nimble fingers to his back and lips lightly connecting with his skin. What directed his fervid movements was the voice in his mind that reminded him that Quatre was his to keep. He had always been the dearest wish that the misguided boy had longed to attain.   
  
Years of simple existence had done nothing to take away the splendor of being around each other. The mundane activities such as performing household chores and taking part in absorbed conversations were part of the whole picture that made them human. Perhaps even the heavens were envious of their way of life.   
  
That was the way of life that Quatre had longed for. Given the chance to live according to his own and not merely in aid of others was perchance his most contenting triumph. It was a triumph made possible by the person he considered most dear, the same person that now was giving him the greater pleasures that even the most beautiful dream could not provide.   
  
He rose up and caught Trowa's busy mouth in a fiery kiss, putting both hands on either side of his head.   
  
Not soon after, the simply lay on the bed together, content with each other's company. He placed Quatre over his chest, stroking the hair out of his face and rubbing his back, a way of lulling him to sleep.  
  
That night and every night he dreamt of angels in white flowing robes and wide spanning wings. They danced like phantoms before his eyes in a picture perfect scene that radiated grace and purity amongst the clouds. After that he'd wake up to the sun beaming down his face. The childish dreams would be forgotten, leaving him in reality's hold. Nevertheless he'd feel contented because no matter how glorious those dreams were, he always preferred the one already in his arms.


	33. Epilogue

**I Dreamed of Angels [Epilogue]**

At fifteen, Trowa felt damned to be living in an era of war and bloodshed. Having lost his family as an infant and having lived the life of a stray orphan had taught him how to survive the hardships. Perhaps being taken in by kind enough mercenaries had given him the necessary skills to survive and yet it wasn't enough to shelter him from the emotional backlog that he had to deal with in the battlefield. Despite the cold exterior, Trowa was just like any other frightened child at the sight of destruction. It was a horrific sight that seemed to follow him around at every corner.

Operation Meteor, as the eccentric scientist had called it, was probably his most meaningful retreat. It provided him with a reason to fight and it provided him with a reason to continue his battles. In truth, the colonial wars had not gained much of his interest. The usual missions since he landed on earth were no more than a distraction from his aimless search.

Ever since he'd woken up from a mysterious nightmare, he hadn't been able to get his mind off the scene. It was a dream just like any other that many had told before. But there was something different about this dream that bothered him to no end. It was as if it was a puzzle waiting to be solved or perhaps a warning for what was to come.

Nevertheless, Trowa kept his mind focused on the missions. One wrong move meant his destruction as well as the ruin of the cause he was fighting for. Perhaps childish imaginations were filling his head, making him satiated amidst the loud wracks and pitiful screams of the soldiers that lost their lives.

As he secured his gundam, the symbol of his fight, he stared at the polished red metal that glinted off the feeble light penetrating its covering. It would be dark soon and it was best that he got some rest and start his day by finding a sufficient place where he could hide himself. He was a bit reluctant to close his eyes, knowing that his dreams would be filled with fantasies that only existed in dreams. Nevertheless, he gave in, hoping that the next day would prove to be different.

The days continued as such keeping him busy with mechanical chores. Every mission meant the annihilation of another base, another incompetent group, and another foolish leader. His newest mission was no different.

Corsica, as the base was called, was huge, looking formidable despite the weak defenses that presented itself before him. Estimating how much firepower he needed to use against the enemies, he knew that he would have enough to complete his mission. It was going to be easy. Their leader was weak.

Commander Bonaparte was a fool and his foolish decision lead to his destruction. Now his soldiers were coming toward him, intent on destroying him the way he had mercilessly killed their leader.

"It's only natural," Trowa thought to himself as he prepared his gattling gun to fire.

When no bullets came, he used the alternative, retrieving the knife that the mobile suit had hidden. He wasn't going to die yet. There was still a reason to fight. He would not leave the earth until he found what he had been looking for.

Just as he thought about that a rain of bullets came from behind, effectively completing his job of defeating the enemy. What came next was an unidentified mobile suit that jumped up in the air and crushed the last of the enemies.

"Interesting," he thought. "Oz has a new ally. But, they should never underestimate my capabilities."

He swung his knife forward, intending to finish off the new mobile suit with whatever he had left. It was distracted at the moment and that was his chance. Unfortunately, he wasn't fast enough. Maybe he underestimated the potential of the new suit that suspiciously looked like it had wings coming off from its shoulders.

He continued to swing his blade and kick but it seemed like the enemy had as much power as he had. It was a useless fight but he still believed that he was going to be the victor. He wasn't prepared to die.

"Not until I find what I'm looking for," he thought.

After that, the other mobile suit shut down, it's pilot coming out of the cockpit as if in surrender. Trowa blinked at the sight. It was not as he expected. The pilot was even more glorious than the suit itself. The sun was shining bright that day, beaming down on the imprudent but nevertheless beautiful boy. Now what kind of person would he be if he sliced the boy in half like he originally planned?

Losing his resolve, Trowa left his cockpit as well, raising his hands in surrender. He was quite satisfied that he came out and had a closer look at the enchanted figure with the sweet voice. Perhaps, it was time that he did surrender. He knew somehow that this was going to be his most magnificent defeat.

"Let the show begin," Trowa though in his mind as he continued to stare at the pleasant blonde who had a smile on his face and some silly looking goggles on his head.

His search had finally ended.

The wind blew in through the cockpit of his mobile suit, forcing open a journal that lay hidden within the compartment of the red mecha. The sun filtered through the clouds, illuminating the open book while the wind continued to go through its pages. When the skies were satisfied, the wind died down, leaving the book at an open page. The page looked blank save for the small inscription that was placed simply in the middle of the page.

"I still dream of angels. The only difference is that this time, I'm sure that they dream of me too."

End

============

Note: I'd like to thank everyone who supported me in writing and completing this fic. Your comments and suggestions have been wonderful. You've all been a great inspiration. ^_^


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